Vanished
by it'scurtainsforyou
Summary: Cassie is 'taken in' by Stryker's team after the murders of her parents. How does a twelve-year-old girl come to be as she grows up in a seven man all-male military team?
1. The Murders

[Emergency. 1450, 6th street. 10-10, attempted homicide. Do you copy?]

As a little girl, she had wanted to be a paramedic, just like her daddy. It didn't pay much, he warned her, the hours were terrible, but she didn't care about either of those things. Her daddy saved lives every day, he was a true hero. He had warned her every day that if, God forbid, she did follow in her daddy's footsteps, she would see things that most people are lucky never to see in their life.

Little did he know that she would see worse than he ever had.

[I repeat: 1450, 6th street. Attempted homicide and 10-10. Unsure of any DOAs. Do you copy?]

The day her dad died was a day that never left her memory. She was twelve at the time, at her dad's house for the weekend. They were in the living room, doing what they normally did on the Saturday nights he got off: play Scrabble and watch _The Simpson's_. Before dinner, her daddy used to go take his medicine, a needle injected into his vein. He was always happier after his medicine, she noted, and she had no idea what it was for, but as long as her daddy was happy, that was really all that mattered, right?

[I repeat: 1450, 6th street. Attempted homicide, 10-10. Does _anyone _copy?]

He let her have a low-alcohol beer, only one for the weekend, when she came over to visit. She was smart enough never to tell her mom or the D.A.R.E officers at her school. It wasn't cool, it wasn't uncool. It was just what she and her father did on his Saturday's off.

And then that man came.

[1450, 6th street. Attempted homicide and 1010. Seriously, does _anyone _copy?!]

Ironically, she just spelled out the word 'death' using a longer word her father had made that she wasn't able to pronounce. Just as her father wrote down her score (they both knew that he gave her two extra points here and there, so it wasn't exactly a fair game), the door was kicked down, a gun drawn by a man with a bandanna covering his face and a black hat on his head.

"You owe us money, Jimmy," he said. His voice was horrible and scratchy and driven by anger. Her father got up from the couch slowly, standing tall.

"Cassie, honey?"

Cassie didn't speak. She was too afraid, too confused. Her dad owed people money? People who were willing to kill him for it?

"Why don't you go upstairs?" her dad finished, because she hadn't replied. She stayed rooted to the spot, scared and unsure and confused. "Go upstairs!" her father suddenly shouted.

She bolted up the stairs.

[I copy. On my way to the scene.]

Cassie hid in the hallway closet. Her room would be too obvious, she was smart enough to know that. She could hear her father begging downstairs, but she wasn't sure what he was begging for. Either way, it was horrible, degrading, and scary.

No child should ever hear their father beg another man.

[Finally.]

She screamed when her father's begs and pleas were silenced by a gun shot, the only sound after it the echo of her scream, the footsteps on the stairs, and her father gasping for breath downstairs. For a minute, her scream had seemed normal. But then she noticed the glass raining down on her from the shelf above.

She shattered a vase that had, once upon a time, belonged to her great-grandmother, or at least her father said so. Her scream echoed in her ears. Her eyes widened.

Surely no normal human could scream that loud.

[I just heard a scream and gunshot. I'll probably need back up.]

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, the man's breathing harsh. Cassie clasped her hands together.

"I'm invisible. You can't hear me. You can't see me," she said. "I'm invisible. You can't hear me. You can't see me." She chanted the last attempt at life like a mantra. Her breathing became louder, and louder, and louder-

and then it stopped.

"What?" she said and thought, opening her eyes. There was no sound that admitted from her, not even her erratic breathing. Everything was completely quiet except for the man outside. Everything in the closet was deadly silent.

Her eyes widened and she looked around wildly, screaming even though it made no sound. And then she saw her hands.

Or rather, her _lack _of hands... and arms... and a body.

Her screaming continued as she looked at herself, only seeing the floor and walls around her, even when she put her hand against the door. She saw straight through what should have been her hand. She fumbled through the drawers in the closet, finally finding a mirror. She looked into it and saw only the wall behind her. She gaped.

What had she done to herself?

[Copy that.]

The door was yanked open, and the man stood in front of her, not two feet away, gun poised. Cassie covered her face and chest on reflex, even though she knew he could just shoot her in the leg and let her bleed out to a slow death. She saw him right through her arms, even her clothes were see-through, and it only scared her more. She shook, her breathing undetectable. The man with the gun looked into the closet, beady black eyes glaring, and then he stormed away towards the other rooms. Cassie stayed there for a minute, still unbelieving. It wasn't until she felt light headed that she realized that she had stopped breathing. She shook her head quickly and bolted down the stairs, the lack of sound around her wracked her nerves.

She jumped the last two stairs, flew down the hallway. She ran towards her father faster than she'd ever run before, feet flying soundlessly across the carpet. She collapsed next to her father's lifeless body, listened and felt for a heartbeat like he'd taught her to if she ever saw someone unmoving on the floor.

There was nothing.

[I arrived at the scene.]

Cassie bolted out of the house, running past the mailbox clearly labeled 1231. She didn't know where she was going, or if anyone could see or hear her. She just ran and ran down the lonely streets of suburban Philadelphia. She was a good hours drive away from her mother's house, but that didn't matter. After all, would her mother accept a monster like her, after what happened, after what she realized just what she could do, after she found out that she was a mutant? Tears streamed down her face, and glass cut her leg, leaving a bloody trail behind her. The pain didn't stop her. She just kept running, head spinning, body numb.

[1450, 6th Street. DOA. Female, mid-thirties, white. By the looks of it, lives with her daughter, who is nowhere to be found. I'll need some CSI's.]

[Copy that. CSI dispatched.]


	2. The Kidnap

Song to listen to: Out from under -incubus

* * *

The day Stryker found her was like any other day had been for her long two months of living as a runaway. She was sitting in the subway, long burgundy hair still slightly damp from the shower she managed to sneak after breaking and entering the local YMCA without a sound. A duffel bag of all the things she deemed necessary to survive (shampoo, soap, razor, some food, clothes, money, deodorant, and womanly products) sat at her side as angry rock blasted from her tape player.

[She's the one on the bench wearing the hoodie. Get her or else I will.]

Her Converse clad foot tapped against the floor, her other foot perched on her seat with her arm slung over the bent knee. She wore slightly baggy pepper gray sweatpants, and tights underneath to keep her warm during the Philadelphia winter. She had four layers on top; sports bra, tight long sleeved undershirt, long sleeved white thermal t-shirt, and a forest colored zip up sweatshirt. Gray knit gloves were worn under black fingerless ones, and he didn't doubt that she wore numerous pairs of socks. She seemed to have a lot of attitude for someone so young, small, and pretty, he mused, but she wasn't naive, at least not after what happened to her mommy and daddy. Drug rings. The thought made him scoff. Killing for drugs, how stupid. Killing for money, on the other hand, he saw a reason to.

[Burgundy hair, roughly 5'1?]

He could hear her music from a mile away, but that was just because his mutation let him. Her hood was up, loose on the top of her head, her dark wine-colored hair spilling over her shoulders and stopping just above her small, just there chest. But then again, he had no right to be a critic. The girl was twelve for Christ's sake.

[Yes, that's the one. Be prepared, she's a slippery little bitch.]

Cassie tapped her foot, looking around as she rested her chin in her hand, elbow propped on her knee. The subway came and went like normal. Her stomach growled loudly, even above the noise of the underground transport system, and it made the Asian guy sitting next to her stare at her awkwardly. She blushed.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking down, embarrassed. The Asian guy just smirked, and went back to reading the paper as she took a small part of her time to regard him. He'd been sitting next to her for quite sometime, and all the trains had come and gone. As far as she could tell, he didn't have a train ticket.

And then she saw the small, almost undetectable piece in his ear.

[Yeah, Zero's right next to her though. He's got a stun gun. I think we can take her down.]

Her eyes widened, and she turned her head quickly back to the floor. Her aquamarine eyes darted around the room quickly, and saw another guy looking at her, and another.

Oh God, they were here to take her in to child services. She had to run.

Too damn bad that child services were just about the last thing she needed to worry about.

[What the hell?!]

She activated her mutation, and sure enough, she became invisible, along with her duffel bag. As long as she touched it, it turned invisible, too. Then she bolted, her running almost as fast as the night her dad died. She looked behind her, noted how the Asian guy looked around wildly. When she turned her head back to face in front of her, she saw a guy with goggles running right at her, swords strapped to his back and a gun drawn. Her eyes widened.

This was definitely not child services.

[Wade, can you see her?]

She ducked at the last minute, her breathing erratic, and he fell behind her. She bolted, wishing desperately for a train to come in so they she could get on and escape. But the sword guy was right at her heels.

[Yep. Remind me to invest in these bad boys. Heat vision. Who would have thought?]

She wracked her brain for the answer; how could he see her?! Then she remembered he had goggles. But there was no way. The US didn't have that sort of technology yet. Heat vision would be the only way, she thought. Or X-ray. But who had the money or the power to get that type of weaponry. Then she remembered the stories her daddy had told her about the military (because he was a Korean war vet) and how the men higher up could get just about anything if they funded the right scientists.

Damn.

[She's a fast little bitch, isn't she?]

[Zero, shut the fuck up and help me catch this bitch.]

The man was hot on her heels, and her breathing was not helping her go any faster. She swung around at the last minute, using her arm and a pole to turn violently and bolt the other way. Her duffel bag flew off, and landed near the stairs. She'd have to get that later.

Right now, she mused, she was kind of busy trying not to get shot by guys from the military... or at least she thought they were from the military.

[Wade, no need to be violent to your teammate.]

[Sorry, sir.]

She thought she might have lost him, so she slowed. It was her biggest mistake. Within a second, a blinding pain shot through her leg, and she collapsed to the floor, the sound of her head hitting the tile floor echoing in her ears. Sound and sight were back to normal, she noted dully, as she saw her shaking hands.

[Ha. Got her. Thank God for stun guns.]

He leaned over, ready to knock her out cold. It was a bit messed up, he admitted, that a twelve-year-old girl should be involved with sort of stuff. But Stryker wanted her, and Stryker always got what he wanted. Not to mention that he'd done far worse things than knock a twelve-year-old girl unconscious.

But when he saw the scared, confused green of her eyes staring up at him, something in his gut sunk like a weight in his stomach. He stared at her for a moment, lost.

[Wade, what the hell are you doing?]

She was shaking. She hit her head pretty hard. He was still lost, stuck in the moment and totally ignorant of the job he was supposed to be doing. And that was saying something. He never delayed in his job. He loved what he did for a living, even if it was somewhat... morally questionable.

"Let me go!" she suddenly hissed, her strength somehow coming back to her. It was only then did he snap out of his little stare-fest and hit the back of her head with the butt of the stun gun. She was out cold.

[Took you long enough.]

[Shut up, asshole.]

[No witty comeback? How unlike you.]

[Son-of-a-!]

[Put her in the car. We're going back to base. And shut the hell up while you're at it. Both of you.]

[Yes, sir.]


	3. The Escape Attempt

[How long as she been out? I didn't hit her that hard.]

_She was hanging out in the subway, that much she recalls._

[Well, genius, she did hit her head on solid concrete.]

[Yeah, I imagine that must of done it.]

_She'd been thinking about the night that her dad had been killed, which, ironically enough to her, had also been the night her mother had been killed. It had been intertwined, she read in the newspaper. Her father had been involved with drugs: heroin. She should have known._

_Everyone always said she was a smart kid. Figures how she wasn't smart enough to figure out that her dad's 'medicine' was actually him shooting up._

[You think Stryker will be able to convince her to work for him?]

[Probably. Think about it. She's a runaway. Stryker's offering her a place to sleep, a continuation of her education. No runaway in their right mind would turn that down.]

[Unless she figures out that Stryker is sort of well... Stryker.]

[Yeah, then we might have a small complication.]

_She remembered seeing that Asian guy, the one who was sitting next to her. He had a piece in his ear. It wasn't that hard to figure out why he hadn't moved for an hour or so. She had freaked, activated her mutation, and ran for the hills. _

She woke up with a fright, her head radiating pain. It was hot, too hot to be wearing four layers anyway. She ripped off her hoodie and thermal shirt, shoved the long sleeves of her remaining shirt up to her elbows. She got up off the floor she'd been on without using her hands and then swept burgundy bangs out of her eyes. Her shoes were gone, she noted, but her two layers of socks and tights underneath were still present. At least whoever had taken her to wherever she was had the decency to leave her untouched while she was knocked out. She blinked at the harsh florescent lighting against the green-tinted room. Cement was the main material, and it gave the room an eery feel.

The room itself could have been scary with pink frilly accents, a shag carpet, and a comfty bed in the corner with lots of stuffed animals. Well, actually, it might have been even creepier with those things, Cassie thought. One of the walls had a mirror, but by the looks of the place she guessed it could have easily been one way glass. Then she turned.

Big mistake.

A chair, much like the one you'd seen in dentist's office, sat in the middle of the room, machinery surrounding it. Needles attached to horrible looking bottles of fluid that dripped onto the floor surrounded the arms of the chair. Monitors she'd seen in the hospital and strange beeping machines whirled, making the room scarier. She backed up against the mirror, scared to death. She'd always hated going to the dentist.

But this was something else.

[You think she likes the chair?]

[Shut up, idiot.]

Her hands scraped against the concrete wall, looking for anything to grab on to. When she found nothing, her heart pounding as her brain wracked itself for something, _anything_ to make sense, she did the only thing that came her mind.

She screamed.

[FUCKING MOTHER OF GOD!]

[STRYKER DIDN'T SAY SHIT ABOUT HER BEING ABLE TO THAT!]

She hopped through the now shattered glass mirror, invisible.

"Oh no, not again. I'm not chasing your tiny white ass all over this place like I did in the subway," the sword guy said. Glass went into her feet, but she didn't care, just like she hadn't cared when the man shot her father. She bolted just like before. And just like before, a bloody trail was left behind her. Wade smirked.

"Bingo, Invisi-girl. You just screwed yourself over."

[What happened?!]

[She got away, sir.]

She rounded the corner, skidding on her blood as she hissed in pain. Luckily enough, no one could hear her. Thank God for her mutation, right?

[What the hell do you mean she got away?!]

When soldiers blocked the hallway, she wracked her brain for something to do. The blood would give her away. She took a deep gulp of air.

If screaming could break glass, maybe it could stall them at least enough for her to get though.

So she did. As hard as she could.

[SWEET JESUS WHAT IS THAT?!]

She rushed down the hallway, pain killing her feet and violently disagreeing with her actions. But right now, she just wanted to get out. She'd worry about getting the glass out of her feet later.

[We, uh, apparently didn't know about part of her mutation, sir. In fact, it's kind of a big part of her mutation... she just knocked out the twenty soldiers in sector nine.]

[God damnit! Well go get her and bring her back!]

She rounded another corner, skidding again. The soldiers had all fallen unconscious, much to her enjoyment. But she heard the breathing behind her. It hadn't knocked out the sword guy.

Damn.

[Wade's on his way, sir.]

He had to give this kid perks. Knocking out twenty soldiers without touching them. He couldn't even do that. Then again, he didn't have the perks of sound manipulation. Mind tricks were not part of his gift, that was Bolt's job.

He chased the girl down the hallway, his boots slipping slightly on her blood. Out of nowhere, Jimmy was right next to him, Victor not far behind.

"I'm handling this," Wade bit out, running faster. Victor scoffed.

"Yeah, we can tell you're doing it _brilliantly_."

"Go get a manicure, Kitten," Wade shot back. Jimmy raced ahead of them both, and dove. He tackled something to the ground, and that thing could only be the girl. She struggled in his grip, her blood starting to pool near her feet.

"Get off me!" she shouted. "Don't make me kill you!" she threatened, her invisibility fading in waves. She became transparent, then translucent, then normal, like a mirage.

"Princess, I don't think you can kill guys like us," Victor said, scarping a sharp nail down her neck as Jimmy held her down. For some reason he didn't know, Victor's gesture made Wade want to kill him with every fiber in his being.

"Creed, get your grimy claws off her," Wade said, stalking over. Victor flashed him a grin, showing the girl his long canines. She struggled in Jimmy's grip as much as she could, which wasn't much. After all, a skinny twelve-year-old girl can't really fight off a strong, muscled twenty or thirty-something man. It just isn't possible by laws of nature. "How'd you do that, Jimmy?"

"Scent," he answered shortly, looking at the girl. "What does Stryker want with her anyway?"

The name Stryker was unfamiliar, and it only made her fear for her life more. She looked at the guy with the swords, remembering him from her first capture, and then looked at the man he called Jimmy. She was a smart girl, and if there was one thing she remembered her father telling her, it was that if you were fighting a guy and you weren't as strong as him, you had to fight dirty.

And that's exactly what she did.

[Wade, what's taking so long?!]

[...Complications. She's a dirty one, sir.]

"Fucking hell!" Jimmy grunted, rolling off of her. She rolled on to her stomach, and was halfway to pushing herself up when the other man shoved her roughly into the floor, her neck cracking painfully. Her left shoulder blade felt like it was on fire as things as sharp as knives dug into her flesh. She writhed in pain, his other hand holding her neck as points... his nails, maybe, dug into her flesh, not yet drawing blood like they were on shoulder blade. Blood pooled in front of her face, running over her shoulder and down her back and across her arm. She hissed and whimpered in pain.

"Try it again, you little bitch," the man who the sword guy had called Creed said, but didn't get to finish.

"Get _off_ of her, Victor!" the sword guy shouted violently, kicking Victor in the side and sending him a little ways away from her. She rolled over, choking and gasping for the air that Victor's violent shove into the floor didn't allow her. She sat up, tugged the glass out of her feet harshly, probably causing herself more pain, before Wade wrapped his arms around her in a deadlock hold. She thrashed, and he felt the blood from her shoulder blade sink into his shirt. She choked on a sob.

"Let me go! I'm not going back there! LET ME GO!" she sobbed, begging and demanding at the same time. Wade bit the inside of his cheek when he made eye contact with her, remembering that he had a job to do. He whipped out the needle when she was too busy looking into his eyes, and she saw the awareness in the aquamarine orbs fade quickly after she stiffened, the needle jabbed in her thigh. She was limp in his arms by the time Jimmy and got up.

"Tricky little bitch," he said, wincing still. Girl had a good drop kick. Once Stryker managed to get her to join the team, if that was what he wanted (Jimmy could only guess that he wanted a girl of her talents on the team for an added power of stealth), teaching her how to fight probably wouldn't take as long as he'd thought when he first saw her passed out in the cell.

"Whiny, too," Victor chuckled as he walked past Wade, ruffling the girls hair in a way that Jimmy knew meant 'I'm not with you yet, you little bitch'. Wade's hold instinctively tightened, moving her away from him. Jimmy regarded Wade. Usually he was cracking jokes, and he'd never defended anyone against Victor before. Usually, that was his job. Jimmy shrugged it off, walking back towards the rec room where his beer and cigar were waiting for him. Damn kid not only kicked him in the balls, but she also ripped him away from his cigar and beer.

Kid was damn lucky to be alive, if you asked him.

[Did you get her, Wilson?]

After Jimmy walked ahead of them and aside into another hallway, Victor looked at the swordsman, tilting his head. "Protective, are we? Never thought you liked little girls, Wilson."

[Yes, sir. On my way to the cell.]

"I figured you already had little boys covered," Wade said as he carried the girl, blood dripping down his arm after he readjusted her in his arms so that she was easier to carry. Not that she weighed much. Even for 5'1, the girl was too skinny. It felt like he was carrying a damn pillow.

[Good.]

Victor smirked. "Just don't fall in love with the girl, Wilson."

[Question, sir.]

[Yes, Wilson?]

[Permission to kill Creed, sir?]

[Denied.]

[Damn.]


	4. The Wake Up

Pain. She was in lots of pain.

[You really think she'll listen to Stryker?]

[You did, didn't you?]

She sat up, her left shoulder singing in pain. She reached her right arm back, feeling slightly damp gauze and deep gorges in her skin underneath. She winced at the memory of the man called Victor Creed, the one with sharp nails and canine teeth and just this overall vibe that radiated 'not the type of guy you want to lock dental braces with'.

Then again, she mused, there were very few people who radiated 'the type of guy you _do _want to lock dental braces with'.

[It was either this or ballroom dancing, and guess which one you can actually make a living at?]

[God, shut up, Wilson.]

She pushed herself off the cement floor she was lying on, but fell back down. Everything either hurt or was numb. She settled on just lying there and looked around. The scary room from before was gone, replaced by an equally creepy environment. A harsh metal cage bolted into the cement floor. There were cameras all around her, in every corner of the cage, and the door looked thick, bolted, and impossible to penetrate. She tried to think if the place she'd been in before was worse. Which was worse? Being caged like an animal or being in a room full of the type of chair you only saw in the lethal injection room in prisons?

[It was this job, if you were wonder- hey, she's awake. And she's not screaming bloody murder. What do you know?]

She stretched, hissing in pain and considering running again for a minute. She might be able to turn invisible and break the lock if she killed the sound. She doubted herself, though. She'd never been good at picking locks. One time she and her friends had tried to break into the local store after it closed. It was when she was with her dad, so it was in the less-nice neighborhood of Phili. There'd been bars on the windows. She'd been using a bobby pin that her friend had flattened with a stone against the brick wall of the adjacent building. They'd been in a dark alleyway, wearing all black because they're were eleven-year-olds trying to be twenty-year-old criminals living on the edge because they had nothing better to do.

She had sent of the alarm within two minutes. The scare had made her heart skip and jump, and for a faint second, it sounded like some one had muted the alarm, just for a faint second. But as soon as the brief moment of silence had come, and it had gone, and she was bolting down the street with her friends trying not to fall as they all laughed to the point of tears.

[She's just staring off into space. I think you might have given her just a little too much of that stuff, Wilson.]

She smiled sadly at the memory. It had barely been more than a year ago, but it seemed so far away. She sighed, fought back the tears that threatened to emerge as the scene of her father's murder and the pictures of her mother's filled in the gap between that attempted break-in and the present.

[If I did, at least it was the happy stuff. I'd hate to give her the really nasty stuff.]

She wanted to get out of here, there was no doubt about that. She didn't know where she was, she had been attacked twice, and as far as she knew, some weirdo named Stryker wanted her for her mutation. The last part was a guess, but let's face it, why else would you kidnap a twelve-year-old girl and place her in what seemed to be a high security area? There was no other reason, that much she knew.

Maybe this was why people called her a smart kid. After all, she sure did some stupid things in her life if landed her here of all places in the world.

[Be on guard. I'm going into the cage.]

[Yes, sir.]

Wade watched as Stryker made his way down the cement hallway towards the girl's cage. She perked up at the sound of footsteps, and pushed herself up, grimacing in pain. She bit her lip and put a hand on her shoulder blade. The action made Wade a bit pissed off. She wouldn't be in pain if Creed had kept his hands to himself instead of marking her with his claws. The thought made something in Wade swell and spread, like an angry mob in his bloodstream. He crossed his arms, gripping his biceps to keep from unsheething his beloved katanas and just taking the bastard out on the spot. The fact that Victor was standing right next to him smiling like a sadist idiot did nothing to help Wade's control, either. Then again, neither did the fact that he had no idea why he was being like this.

For fuck's sake, he killed for a living. He was in it for the money, nothing else. He took human life away like people reposed TV's and couches and houses and cars. Efficiently, unfeeling, easily. His job was rarely a challenge, especially an emotional one.

So what made this girl different? What about her made him act this way?

[Creed, if you don't stop smiling like that-]

[What you gonna do about it, Wilson? Get your little girlfriend to scream at me?]

Wade gripped his arms and said nothing.

Looked like Victor just found a way to make Wade shut up.


	5. The Agreement

"Hello there, Cassandra," he said like he knew her. She was sitting, but that didn't stop her from shoving herself into the corner of the cage furthest away from this man. If it had been the guy she kicked in the balls or the sword guy or the Asian guy, she would at least have the comfort of familiarity now. But this man was different. He was scary, like Victor, but unlike Victor, she wasn't scared of him because he hurt her.

No, she was scared of this man because she knew he wasn't a mutant, and she knew that he wanted something from her. It didn't take anything more than primal instincts to tell her that.

[Out of all the people she's met today, she's scared of Stryker. Tsh.]

[She's twelve.]

[And now you're getting protective too, Dukes? I'm warning you now that you'll have to fight Wilson for her.]

[Victor, be quiet.]

[Fine, fine. I'll be quiet. Lighten up, Jimmy.]

She looked at him, heart racing. Somehow, without being violent or angry, he reminded her of the man who killed her father. He smiled at her, but something was off in his smile, just like it had been in Victor's (granted, the guy had canine teeth, but this was different). She pressed her back into the harsh cold metal, even if pain radiated through shoulder. Her feet hurt, too, but at the moment, all she was really concentrating on was a way to get away from this man. He breathed 'the kind of guy who your parents warn you to stay away from'.

"My name is Colonel William Stryker," he said calmly. "You will address me as 'sir'. Understood?"

"Considering that I don't know why I'm here, why I was attacked, or why I'm in a freaking cage, no, I don't understand," she suddenly bit out, a risky thing to do. Stryker glared at her and she glared right back, courageous out of nowhere. Their stare-fest held as the men watched from behind the one way glass.

[She's a pissy one, ain't she?]

When he didn't let up, she decided to give in, just a little.

"_Sir._"

[Shut up, Wraith, you're not the one who got kicked in the balls.]

[Oh, she's making Stryker mad...]

"You listen here, girl," Stryker said, leaning down so that he was in her face. "I'm giving you a place to stay, food to eat, and protection from everyone else out there who wants your mutation. You be a good girl and listen to what I say and follow my orders, I'll even through in a paycheck."

There was a long silence, in which they just stared at each other. She wracked her brain. Live here with this son-of-a-bitch and a few others but get paid, free food and free housing, or be a stubborn bitch and stay in the cage with nothing to eat, no bed, and what she could only assume would be a series of painful injections or the like. She bit her lip at the thought of injections, images of her father flashing in front of her eyes. She blinked and turned to look away, fighting off the tears.

"Fine. I'll do it."

"...?"

"Sir. I'll follow your orders, sir."

"Good girl, Cassandra."

She felt absolutely worthless, but what other choice did she have?

[Did she agree?]

[He's taking her out of the cage. What do you think, idiot?]

Stryker led her out of the cage, pressing her forward by pressing his palm into her damaged shoulder. She tried not to whimper in pain. He opened a door and shoved her through into a dimly-lit room. She hissed in pain.

The pain was quickly forgotten at the sound of a gun clicking. In less than a second, she was invisible, ready to run like hell was on her heels. Her aqua-green eyes darted around the room, flitted from face to face. Nearest to her was a black man with dark brown skin and eyes, and black hair. Next to him was a short blond man covered in technological equipment. He couldn't have been taller than 5'8. Behind the short blond stood a massive guy, probably 6'4 and 300 pounds of pure muscle, and he also had blond hair. Somehow, despite his huge frame, he didn't seem as dangerous as the rest of them.

Next to the huge guy was the sword guy: sandy brown hair, dark brown eyes, boyish good-looks, and a look of mischief in his eyes that even existed when the rest of his face was stony and his posture was strict. Next to him was Victor. She quickly looked away from him. Next to Victor was Jimmy: brown hair that was obviously styled, hazel eyes... he had the 'don't fuck with me vibe' down like Ozzy had his accent. Next to him was the Asian guy, and that was the last man in the room other than Stryker.

"Men," Stryker addressed, then paused, looking at the Asian. "For God's sake, Zero, put that away."

Zero clicked the gun back into safety and put it back into the holder near his hip. Cassie reluctantly let her invisibility fade, becoming visible in waves and flickers. Stryker cleared his throat and placed a hand on her wounded shoulder. She winced, biting her lip to keep the hiss from coming out.

"Men, this is Cassandra Blake. She'll be working with us for now on."

She felt like she just lost her soul to the devil as he said those words. Little did she know that she pretty much had.


	6. The First Conversation

"James will show you to your room," Stryker told her, nodding to Jimmy. "Think of him as your... mentor, from now on. Understood?"

Cassie was absolutely terrified. After all, she had kicked the guy in the family jewels. But it was better than Victor by a long shot.

"Yes, sir," she replied, looking at Jimmy fearfully. He glared at her.

Her eyes stayed glued to the floor after that.

[How come Jimmy's the one taking care of her?]

[Hell if I know, Wilson. Ask the man yourself.]

"Come on, kid," Jimmy said gruffly, grabbing something relatively heavy off the floor and throwing at her. She caught it quickly, but just barely before it hit her square in the face, her shoulder singing in pain. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if she needed stitches. She looked at the object in her hands for a minute as she followed Jimmy out. It was her bag. She almost smiled from relief that she had her own stuff. She swung the bag over her one un-damaged shoulder and walked out of the room, the heavy metal door swinging shut loudly behind her.

[Sir?]

Jimmy walked ahead of her, and she tried to fight of her body's reaction to him, which was to become undetectable. The hallways were just like the one she ran through only a few hours before, or maybe it had been longer? She didn't know how long she'd been out, the first time or just recently. Not to mention there were no clocks on the walls. Just blank metal or concrete. It was creepy, to say at the least, especially with the lighting, which was tinted slightly green for seemingly no reason at all.

All in all, Stryker's, well, _whatever_, seemed less than homey.

[Yes, Wilson?]

The silence between she and Jimmy was slowly driving her crazy. She didn't want this guy to hate her, especially if he was going to be her mentor for God knew how long. She might as well attempt to get on his good side.

If he had a good side, that was.

[Why did you choose Jimmy to be her mentor, sir?]

"I'm sorry," she suddenly blurted, making Jimmy stop in his tracks. He whirled to look at her, one eyebrow raised as if he didn't understand her apology. When a silence remained and his stare continued, she cleared her throat, her image flickering slightly before him. She was obviously nervous if she had to fight off the instinct to become invisible, he noted silently. "I said, I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, turning again and beginning to walk. She followed close at his heels now.

"For, well," she said awkwardly, "you know, kicking you in the-"

"You don't need to apologize for that," Jimmy stated simply.

"But I kicked you in the-"

"I know what you did, kid," he said, turning around again. She almost ran him over, not expecting the sudden face-to-face confrontation. "I tackled you and you defended yourself in about the only way you could. It was actually mildly impressive that you could kick that hard," he somewhat mused, then turned back away from her, continued walking. "Trust me, kid, if you're going to survive this place at all, you can't apologize for causing someone pain."

"Why?" she asked bluntly. It made Jimmy think, and when he couldn't really come up with a logical answer, he just stuck to staying silent.

[Better than letting you, Wilson.]

[I take deep offense to that statement, sir.]

[Good.]


	7. The First Year

**From now on, the story will be told in a process of the years she spends with the team, until she turns seventeen.**

* * *

**{The First Year}**

{January}

"Ow!" she hissed, jerking away from the needle that poked into her skin. "That _hurts_!"

"Suck it up, kid," he growled, trying to stitch up the marks Victor embedded into her shoulder blade. They were deep, all the way to the bone, and even the bone was marked, too, he'd seen the marks of bone-on-bone when he opened the wounds to clean them. He didn't even know why he was doing this, damnit. She was a stubborn little bitch, and whiny, too. And if she lived long enough, she'd bring boys into the base and cause trouble and drink his beer.

Why the hell Stryker made him her mentor, he didn't know, but if his predictions turned out to be true, there was going to be hell to pay. Mainly because no one drank _his _beer.

"You're not the one getting the stitches!" she said as she winced, sitting on the floor. He was leaning over her back, sitting in a recliner in the rec room. Zero was sitting across from them, polishing his guns. The fact that they were pointed in her general direction did nothing to calm Cassie down, which only made Jimmy's job harder seeing as her skin shimmered and flickered every time she heard the gun click or saw it move. Bolt sat next to Zero, watching the pair fight in amusement.

"Maybe not," Jimmy said, and then gave a hard pull at the string, making her hiss, "but I'm the one fixing them. I wouldn't bitch at the man who was tending to your wounds if I was you, kid."

"He's right you know, Half-pint," Bolt noted, smirking as she pouted childishly. Next to Jimmy, Bolt was probably the only other man on the team to get on Cassandra's good side, or at least, the only other man on the team who Cassandra wasn't afraid of or hated. Plus, he was the only one she was able to borrow clothes from when she ran out of clean ones. Even with Bolt at a small-stature of 5'8, she looked swamped in his clothes. His black sweats had been rolled up several times to meet her middle shins as she sat there, clad in nothing else but a thin strapped tank top. His hoodie was on the floor next to her. It went to her knees when she wore it.

"I'm not a kid," she defended indignitly, crossing her arms. Wade snorted as he walked by, taking a deep chug of beer.

"And I'm the freaking fairy princess," he declared, raising his bottle in the air in a gesture close to a cheers and then leaning on the back of Jimmy's chair, staring at her intently. "You really should be careful what you say around here, Half-pint," he warned, using her ever-famous nickname. Three days. Three days of living with them, and they already found the most annoying nickname ever.

He grinned. "We might just send Creed after you again," he threatened, smiling. Her back instantly stiffened, Jimmy noticed, and she shut up. When she started to shake as Wade laughed, Jimmy had to hold both her shoulders to keep her still. He narrowed his eyes. God damnit. Bolt looked at her and then instantly glared at Wade. Zero did nothing.

"Wade, get out of here," Jimmy ordered.

"What? I'm just putting Half-pint in her place-"

"Get. Out." Jimmy bit out, sending Wade a death glare as he took his hands off of Cassie's shoulders. She was still shaking. When Wade noticed, he left immediately. The beer bottle in his hand shattered to pieces in his hand once the door shut behind him.

"Fuck."

{March}

"You're getting better, kid," Jimmy tormented as they sparred. So far, they'd only covered hand-to-hand, and she fought dirty: a good quality to have in a hell pit like the one they were in. She was weak, mainly because she was growing like a weed, but also because she never ate much, so her muscle strength wasn't so good. But she was a quick little bitch, just like the first day he'd met her, and she was bony as hell. Her hipbones were visible in the gap between her tank top and the sweatpants she'd stolen from Bolt, when she elbowed you, the bruise stayed for a couple of hours, even with his healing. That part was definitely impressive.

"I try," she admitted, aiming to knee him in the gut. He fell for the trap, going to deflect it. She broke his nose with her elbow instead, but got a good hard punch to the stomach in return. Jimmy went easy on her because she was twelve and a girl, but he didn't go _that _easy on her. After all, she needed to know what a real fight would be like if she was going to work for Stryker. Her angry rock music was blasting in the sparring room, and it seemed to help her gain confidence. He told her she couldn't use invisibility because she might end up in a situation where she wouldn't be able to use it and have to fight. Both of them knew that was total bullshit, but she followed his orders nonetheless. She wasn't exactly in a position to cause trouble, at least not yet. Stryker watched her like a hawk, and if she disobeyed Jimmy once, it was a week in the cage.

And trust me, she did not enjoy the cage.

"Alright," Jimmy said, just a bit winded. She was panting. "We should move on to guns. You'll probably be using those the most," he informed her. She nodded, then cracked her knuckles before she followed him out into the hallway. The concrete was incredibly cold against her bare feet, but after a month of living in the base (she'd learned it was a military base not too long ago, thanks to Bolt's weakness for fried chicken, about the only thing she could cook and one of the few things she ate), she'd gotten used to it. He lead her downstairs into the armory, handed her a pair of headphones as he put his on.

She raised her eyebrows at him. She was virtually a human silencer. He rolled his eyes and put the headphones back.

"Okay, you know how to hold a gun, right?" he asked, grabbing one for himself and tossing her one. She caught it, terrified.

_He let her have a low-alcohol beer, only one for the weekend, when she came over to visit. She was smart enough never to tell her mom or the D.A.R.E officers at her school. It wasn't cool, it wasn't uncool. It was just what she and her father did on his Saturday's off._

_And then that man came._

"Um, yeah. Sure. I used to watch Starsky and Hutch," she said, unsure. She held the gun in one hand, not properly, just too look at it. A simple hand gun. Not something with a lot of fire power, but she wasn't expecting to get a Tommy-gun on her first time.

_"You owe us money, Jimmy," he said. His voice was horrible and scratchy and driven by anger._

She clutched it tightly in her palm. Jimmy taught her how to load it without saying much. She followed what he said, but she wasn't really listening.

_"Cassie, honey?... Why don't you go upstairs?... Go upstairs!"_

She took a deep breath and shook her head quickly, trying to get the thoughts from playing in her head as she got ready to shoot the target.

_She could hear her father begging downstairs, but she wasn't sure what he was begging for. Either way, it was horrible, degrading, and scary. No child should ever hear their father beg another man._

She rammed the rounds into the gun, hands shaking. Sweat rolled down the side of her face and her vision swam. Jimmy was shooting already, the sounds of the shots echoing in her head, replaying the very moment she heard her father get shot over. And over. And over...

"Get a grip," she said, but she felt the panic attack whizz through her system. Breathing was difficult and her vision swan and darkened.

The gun hit the floor only seconds before she did. After that, Jimmy managed to convince Stryker to make her wear mandatory ear plugs during situations involving fire arms.

{June}

"This," Wraith declared, "should not be possible."

"Tell me about it," Zero muttered, taking off his watch and throwing it on the table. Wraith ran a dark hand over an equally dark face and sighed. Jimmy was chewing on his cigar angrily, glaring at his cards with an intensity that should have set them aflame. Victor just glared at her specifically, something that would have bothered her if it wasn't for Bolt and Jimmy being in the same room. Dukes was staring at his cards dumbly, completely stupefied at the very idea of a twelve-year-old being able to do this. Bolt, who was usually amused by Cassie, found himself forking over his last item to bet with: his pants.

"There is no way in hell I'm giving up my babies!" Wade declared, arguing with Cassie, who was sitting across the table from him enjoying herself immensly. Wade was hugging his swords to his torso. There was no way in hell Cassie was kicking his ass in poker. For God's sake, she was winning against seven full grown men trained since adolesence to void of any emotion and to show no mercy. And she wasn't just winning, either. She was handing their asses to them on a silver platter.

"It's the last thing you have to bet," she said nonchalantly, not really caring if she got them or not. After all, she had most of the mens' watches, Bolt's pants, a tracking system, two guns, a five pack of beer, another of Jimmy's flannel shirts, Wade's wife beater, and five hundred bucks on the table. "But if you don't want to, you can just take the blow to your pride and admit that an adolescent girl served your ass to you-"

"No. Way. In. Hell," Wade spat. He loved his babies, but his love was not as big as his ego. He gave in, putting them gently on the table. "How the hell are you even winning? YOU'VE GOT A FIVE PACK ON THE TABLE AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN LEGAL TO DRINK!"

"Blame Victor. He was the one who put it on the table." she said, jerking her thumb over a few seats to the seething cat-like man. "And in any case, I've been drinking alcohol since infancy."

"Bullshit," Wraith stated. She shook her head.

"No joke. Dad used to put Jack Daniel's with my milk when I couldn't sleep. I'm bound to die of liver failure at age twenty," she said simply, like the thought really didn't bother her at the moment. "And besides, I'm gonna share my winnings."

"With who?!" Wade asked excitedly. She looked at him like he was stupid.

"Do you really need an answer to that?"

"Yes! I wanna know!" Wade said childishly. She rolled her eyes.

"I'll give you a guess. I'm wearing his pants and his shirt," she said, pointing to the objects in order of recognition. She was sitting at the table, legs pulled up to her chest and feet resting on the same chair she was sitting on. She wore flip flops, baggy black sweats, a white camisole, and an open flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her bony elbows. Jimmy and Bolt grinned cockily, while the rest of the men groaned as the girl showed her cards. She gathered up her earnings, folding the clothes and tucking the money into her pocket. She opened a beer by hitting the top against the edge of the table, stretching her legs and propping them up on the table, sending the cap flying, before she passed it to Jimmy. She opened one for Bolt, too, and then finally, one for herself. They clinked bottles and took a swig simultaneously. Wade glared at her.

How the hell had he lost at poker? He usually kicked ass at poker! His glare intensified when she twirled the sword in her hand carelessly and clumsily, almost slicing off Jimmy's nose. She blushed, but laughed, and Jimmy ruffled her hair. Then she noticed Wade's glare and gave him the swords back catiously.

She didn't say anything when she handed them to him, and it was more of a scared side note than a nice gesture. Just as he was about to say thank you, she was already talking with Jimmy about training the next day.

Wade stayed angry at himself for weeks.

{July}

She'd grown three inches in the past eighty days; Stryker was keeping track, so yes, Jimmy would know about it. Not to mention the fact that she got bonnier every single day, it seemed.

And not just because getting kneed or elbowed by her hurt like a bitch. It was because the girl didn't eat _anything_. And if she did, it was at normal eating hours.

"Do you ever eat at a normal time for humans?" Jimmy mused as he walked into the base's kitchen. She was sitting on a counter top, shovelling down cereal with milk. She gave him a small smile, swallowing.

"Bad dream," she explained quietly. Jimmy frowned, so she went into a little more detail. "It's nothing major. Just about my dad. It happens almost every night. A bowl of cereal and I'll be fine," she swore, wiping her eyes, trying not to sniffle but failing. He didn't buy it for a second. She looked shaken, almost like when Wade threatened to sick Victor on her.

"You're shaking. If you're fine and dandy I'm a star in _Dukes of Hazard, _kid," Jimmy scoffed, seeing how red and wet her eyes were. His frown deepened. "You want to talk about it?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted stubbornly, wiping her nose on her sleeve and taking another spoonful of the Lucky Charms that Stryker kept on base solely for her, another one of his bribes to get her to cooperate.

Admittedly, it worked, but it was a bribe nonetheless.

"At least let me walk you back to your room. The last thing you need is another panic attack," Jimmy said, just as stubborn as she was. She frowned, narrowing her eyes.

"That only happened when I held a gun," she said defensively. "And that was months ago."

"How long ago did your father die?" Jimmy asked as she got down from the counter. She stopped for a minute, barely breathing.

"When Stryker captured me, it had only been two months. Eight months?" she said, trying not to think about it.

"What about your mom?"

"You know what happened to my parents!" she shot. "I don't have to tell you information you already know."

"You don't have to act so tough, kid," Jimmy said, trying to offer advice. She snorted.

"I just really don't want to talk about, okay, Jimmy?" she explained, voice back to being quiet and scared as she washed the dishes in the sink. The dish clattered in the sink, breaking, when she said 'Jimmy'. Her dad's name had been Jimmy.

"Kid, you're going to have another panic attack if you don't fucking breathe," Jimmy scolded, walking over to her. She gave a sad smile.

"My dad's name was Jimmy..."

{August}

"Now, Cassandra," Stryker said calmly, through the loud speaker. "These are only tests to see what your capable of. Don't feel pressured. This is only so we can understand what you can accomplish when I send you on missions with the team. Say something if you feel uncomfortable of if the test is difficult for you. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said, standing in a room like the ones she woke up in when she first 'arrived' at Stryker's base, minus the scary dental chair. She tugged the sleeve's of Jimmy's flannel shirt over her hands nervously. She had always hated tests when she went to a real school, especially in math class. But something told her that this test was pretty far from math. Sure, she had education here at the base, but it was all relative to her job, and her job was to work with Stryker's military team. The literature was stuff like the English translation of _Mien Kampf_, a few Shakespeare's and maybe, if Stryker was really feeling happy, John Stienbeck was always a popular choice. Anything else she wanted to read, she had to read by herself on her own time.

She would never tell Strkyer that Jimmy let her read instead of doing the math assignments he gave her. Jimmy's outlook on it was that, while the Pathagarean Theorem came in handy when you knew all the measurements of the place you were trying to get out of or to in a military situation, ass-kicking helped you way more than any stupid math equation ever would.

She was really starting to love Jimmy.

"Okay, Cassandra, if you could please turn invisible, but keep the sound on," Stryker ordered. She nodded, and her image flickered and sputtered away. She'd found that she could change how she disappeared not too long ago. She always turned invisible when Victor was close and Jimmy or Bolt weren't around. At first, it was always the simplistic way to go invisible: all at once. But then she started experimenting as her control grew. Now she could fade like a mirage, flicker like she was on a screen, sputter like she was made of oil and being heated, and wisp away like smoke, much to her enjoyment. She was still working on becoming visible, though. That seemed a bit harder to control.

"Good. Can you turn invisible any other way?" Stryker asked, meaning that she had to answer and would probably have to show him the four other ways.

"Yes, sir."

"Let's see them then."

[She has more way than one?]

[Apparently so. Tape these things, damnit. What are you just standing around for?]

[Yes, sir.]

She came back all at once, then faded out. She came back all at once, and went out all at once. She came back all at once, and then sputtered away. She came back all at once, and then withered and whisked away like smoke. Stryker stopped her then.

"How do you do that one, Cassandra?"

"I just picture smoke, sir," she replied. It sounded so stupid, but it was what she did.

"That one was good. Excellent in fact."

"Thank you, sir."

[Amazing. It was like her entire body turned into smoke and got blown away by wind. Incredible.]

[Yes, and now we know it isn't her skin that's turning invisible. Stop the chemical tests. This has something to do with light waves.]

[Yes, sir.]

"Alright, Cassandra. Now, stay invisible."

She faded out again.

"Now we're going to tape you with a heat vision camera. I want you to try and be invisible on that, but still stay undetectable on the normal one. Understood?"

"Crystal, sir," she said, nodding even though he couldn't see that. A green light came on the other side of the room, which she could assume meant that the heat camera was on. She stood there, unsure of what to do. How was she supposed to become invisible to that? Becoming invisible just kind of came naturally to her, when she was being watched. She bit her lip and tried to concentrate on that, watching the green light and imagining it to be some one looking for her.

[She's flickering, sir.]

[Good.]

It was hard to stay invisible both ways. It felt like she was tuned to two different radio stations, and it was very tiring. But she did it.

"Brilliant, Cassandra. You may stop now," Stryker ordered. She came back flickering and fading, tired. The attempt draining her, and she felt dizzy.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I feel dizzy, sir. Permission to stop for the day, sir?"

"Accepted. Go rest."

"Yes, sir."

--

It was the twenty-eighth day of testing. She had barely gotten to see Jimmy for more than an hour a day for math. But she was doing amazing things. Stryker's experiments proved to be extremely educational. She got control of becoming visible, and she could now manage being undetectable by a normal camera and heat vision for a full hour before passing out.

"Today, we're going to try a different test," Stryker said. "Wade's going to come in. I want you to turn the both of you invisible, but I want you to be visible to each other. And turn the sound off, but be able to hear him."

"Okay," she said, nodding. Wade walked in and stood a few feet away. Within a second, there was short, low sound, like a heavy load had been dropped on the ground, and the image of their bodies evaporated, like an atom bomb disintegrated them, their ashes blown away by an imaginary wind.

[She's getting good, sir.]

[She likes to show off from time to time, yes.]

"What do you know? There goes my ass," Wade said, looking at the 'dust' that floated behind him. He looked at his hands. "Huh. So much for being invisible."

"Look at the screen," Cassie told him. He looked to the television in the corner.

"Holy shit!" Wade said, waving his hands around but still seeing nothing on the screen. "How'd you do that?"

"Just my mutation. Hell if I know the scientific reason. I'm twelve."

"And I'm a high school drop out. We're pretty much even," Wade mused.

"Good job, Cassandra. We can't see or hear a damned thing, even with the heat vision," Stryker said proudly. "You can come back now."

They flickered back into vision on screen. Wade looked at her.

"Heat vision, too, huh?"

"Yes," she said, feeling incredibly ill. "Sir, permission to stop for the day?"

"Go on out. Wade, make sure she doesn't pass out on the floor. Every time she does she almost has a damn concussion."

"Yes, sir. May I say that your voice is incredibly smooth and honey-covered today? It really turns me on-" Wade started. Cassie shook her head.

"Go, Wilson!"

"Are you sure? I'm offering! But then again, getting involved with the boss does present some problems, doesn't i-"

"GO!"

Wade heard Cassie laugh and he smirked, walking from the testing room.

_He made her laugh._

{September}

"I'm just happy he's done with the testing," Cassie said as she sparred with Jimmy, kicking him in the face before he grabbed her ankle and tossed her over his shoulder. She landed on the mat on feet and hands, and went straight to launching herself at him, tackling him with her entire body weight behind her. It didn't do much, though. Honestly, she really couldn't expect it to accomplish anything she hoped for; her body mass index was puny compared to most people her age. 5'5 and 104 pounds. Skin and bone, Jimmy teased her.

"You seemed drained," Jimmy said, a bit worried. It was funny, though, mainly because he was worrying about her as he kicked her across the room.

"It was tough. Hiding Wade, Bolt, You, Victor, Dukes, Zero, and Wraith was anything but easy," she admitted, panting as she got up. "Seriously. Dukes is a big guy. It took a good effort to make him invisible to the camera. He kept flickering in and out!"

"You had Victor in the room with you, you were nervous," Jimmy sympathized. She rolled her eyes. Out of all the men in the base, it was her fighting mentor who was sympathetic. The irony killed her.

{November (16th)}

She snuck out of her room and down the hall, her image disappearing in a wisp of smoke. She shuddered, her footsteps making no sound against the floors. Her nightmare came back again. She needed Lucky Charms, and she needed them before she had a panic attack.

She walked into the kitchen, her image flickering back, as she poured a bowl of cereal. She was just about to pour too much milk into it, like she always did, when his voice made her stop in his tracks.

"What you doin' out here all by yourself, little girl?" Victor said, then laughed sadistically. She set the milk down, put the cap on. It was stupid of her to worry about spilling it, but she did anyways.

"N-nothing," she said, biting her lip because she hated how she sounded weak. She felt him get closer and she froze. He was right behind her, and she had nowhere to run to.

"Doesn't look like nothin'," Victor growled before he slammed her against the wall, nails scraping into the scars she had from their last encounter and also the shoulder blade that hadn't suffered damage. "Lying's a bad thing, little girl, and Jimmy won't always be around to protect you."

She could only whimper in pain as blood ran down her back, face pressed roughly into the concrete. Then he whirled her around, slamming her back into the wall. She cried out in pain. He grinned.

"You're nothing but a weak little girl, and nobody loves you. I bet your father hated your guts," he spat, slapping her across the face. Tears started to pour down her face.

_Her father..._

"You pathetic little bitch-"

"Hey what's going o-?!" Wade strolled into the room in shorts, nothing else. Then he saw what was going on. "Victor! Get off of her!" he ordered, rage soaring through his system. Victor smirked.

"What is it, Wilson? Am I hurting your little girlfriend?" Victor taunted, scraping a nail down her neck and drawing blood.

"Get off of her before I kill you, you sadistic son-of-a-bitch!" Wade shouted. Victor rolled his eyes.

"Like you could without your swords-"

Victor spoke too soon, because before he could even finish his sentence, a butcher knife embedded itself in his neck, cutting the spinal cord. Victor fell to the ground, paralyzed but livid with animistic rage. Wade kicked him repeatedly, stomped on him for good measure. The sickening crack of ribs splitting through Victor's skin made Cassie cringe. Within a few seconds of Wade kicking him in the head, Victor was out cold. Wade stomped his foot into his face for God knew what reason, and then he looked to Cassie.

"Are you oka- God _damnit_!" he almost shouted as he saw the blood on her neck and on the wall and how her face was swelling and the tears in her eyes. He pulled her away from the wall gently and picked her up just as Jimmy and Bolt ran into the room.

"I smell blood, what the hell is-?!" Jimmy had started, but then he saw Cassie being held by a shirtless and blood-covered Wade, the blood on the wall, Victor barely coming to on floor, and the butcher knife sticking out of his neck. When he saw the hand mark across Cassie's cheek his eyes went wide.

"What the fuck happened?" Bolt whispered. Wade, seething with rage, shoved past them.

"Victor happened. Her marked her. Again. Other shoulder," Wade said as Bolt followed, leaving Jimmy to handle Victor. Bolt saw her shoulder blade and cringed. She was going to need stitches again. Bolt patted her hair, but she was shaking, crying, absolutely terrified of everything that moved. Wade looked down at her, angry at her for going alone and angry at Jimmy for not being there and angry at Victor for being such a sadistic bastard and angry at himself for not being there sooner.

"Why were you alone?" Wade demanded as he made his way to the infirmary.

"I-I was just hungry," she said. "Usually Jimmy's down there. He knows what days I usually go down at night."

"From now on, you go anywhere, you tell Jimmy or I, got that, Half-pint?" Wade ordered. She nodded her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck as tears ran down her face and down the back of his neck and down his arm, leaving a trail of water through the blood that stained his skin. Bolt kept patting her hair and telling her that it was going to be alright.

If you ignored the fact that bolt was there, Wade noted, this was totally _deja vu_.

[Sir, Cassie was attacked.]

[Where, and by who?]

[The kitchen, Victor.]

[How bad, Wilson?]

[She's bleeding all over the place. He marked up her other shoulder blade, smacked her across the face, cut her neck a little, sir.]

[Where is he now? Are you bringing her to the infirmary?]

[He's in the kitchen with a butcher's knife sticking out of his neck. And, yes, sir.]

[Damnit. Alright. Get her there ASAP.]

[Yes, sir.]

[...]

[One question, sir.]

[Yes, Wilson?]

[Permission to kill Victor, sir?]

[Denied.]

Wade had never wanted to kill the man who paid him before. But then he guessed there was a first time for everything.

_The worst part was that it was her birthday that day, but no one figured that out until later._

{December}

"I thought you'd be happier today," Jimmy noted as she walked into the kitchen at an actually decent hour. Roughly eight in the morning. She'd taken a shower already, and wore his shirt over a camisole and a pair of jeans that he'd gotten her when he figured out that her birthday had been the day she'd gotten attacked. They'd been hell to find. The girl was too damn tall for her tiny weight.

"Why would that be?" she asked, getting out her Lucky Charms, a bowl, a spoon, and the milk. Jimmy smirked.

"It's Christmas morning, kid," Jimmy said matter-o-factly. She shrugged.

"Joy."

"Joy?"

"Just not that ecstatic about it. Sorry," she said quietly. Jimmy frowned. It was probably because of the fact that Christmas was normally spent with family, which she really didn't have anymore. He watched her as she looked at her empty bowl for a second before she put it away. Instead, she raided the fridge, coming out with two beers. She tossed on to him and opened one for herself, taking a good long swig that a twelve-year-old should not be able to do without choking. Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

"Turning to alcohol, kid?"

"You're the one who always sets the example, dearest _mentor_. Plus if you rat on me I'll tell Stryker that you never make me do my math homework."

"Black mail? Where'd you learn that one from?" Jimmy asked, laughing. She rolled her eyes.

"Wade. Who else?"

"True. But you really shouldn't be drinking. Not a whole beer when you're barely over 100 pounds at least..."

"Think of it as my Christmas present."

The kid was good, Jimmy mused. He stared at her for a minute, smirking, before he caved and clinked bottles with her over the counter.

"Merry fucking Christmas," he said. She grinned, then took another swig.

"Amen."


	8. The Second Year

**{The Second Year}**

{January}

"Cassie?" Bolt asked, walking into the rec room. She'd been reading _To Kill A Mockingbird_, back resting against Jimmy's arm, the back of her head against his buff shoulder, and legs across Wade's lap, her knees bent and feet pressing against the arm of the small couch. She looked up from her book.

"Yeah?"

"Stryker wants to see you. It's about the testing," Bolt explained, ruffling his hair like he was embarrassed somehow. She sighed.

"Do I have to go?" she looked at Jimmy. He grunted in response, which almost always meant 'yes, but I don't really care, it's Stryker you'll have to deal with later if you don't'. She sighed again at her mentor's response.

"Fine. I'll be there in twenty-two minutes," she told Bolt. He looked skeptical.

"Why twenty-two minutes?"

"Because I like making things interesting. Plus it's around the time I should finish this," she said, waving the book a little so that Bolt saw it. He looked at her like she was crazy.

"You just started that last night. How can you almost be done with it?"

"You consider twenty-two minutes 'almost done with it'?"

"Sometimes, yes, especially when it's boring literature."

"Just go tell Stryker I'll be there soon," she said, beginning to read again, stretching her legs. She'd grown another inch. 5'6. Bolt's pants were actually starting to fit. If she grew to be taller than him, she'd never let him live it down, and neither would the rest of the team.

He inwardly groaned at the thought. The girl was thirteen and 5'6. She'd probably be as tall as Jimmy by next year if she kept going at this rate.

"Alright," he said, "but he really wanted you now."

"Well, he'll have to wait until I finish my math assignment," she said, lifting up the packet that she hadn't even looked at yet and showing it to Bolt, shifting against Jimmy's arm. Bolt cocked an eyebrow.

"But you're not doing a math assignment. You're reading-"

"No, Stryker thinks I'm doing my math assignment. _Hint, hint, genius_," she said through a wide, fake smile, still holding the packet up for him to see. He squinted. Linear equations. Bolt finally got the message.

"Oh. I'll go tell him that he'll have to wait until you're done with your math assignment."

"Glad you can take a hint, Tech-boy," she said sarcastically, getting back to reading. Bolt just shook his head.

That girl was starting to be something, that was for sure.

--

"How'd the math go?" Stryker asked as she walked into the testing room. She gave him a look, and behind the one way glass, he shook his head. "I shouldn't have made Jimmy your mentor. You're starting to get his attitude."

"I like to thing that I get part of the blame," Wade said, leaning against the door. Ever since her second attack, Wade and Jimmy had been absolutely obsessive about protecting her, or at least knowing where she was twenty-four/seven. They bought her pepper spray, too, for good measure, though God knew that if Victor attacked her again, she wouldn't have the guts to even scream, let alone cause him pain that would only last five seconds if she was _lucky._

Stryker ignored Wade's comment and continued on.

"Anything new today, Cassandra?" he asked. She grinned.

"Yes, sir."

"By all means, Miss Blake, show us."

Cassie smirked. Over the past year with Stryker, she'd managed to achieve some pretty original exits and entrances, but her mutation still had a lot to work on by means of control. Stryker said that for her to go on missions, she'd have to make everyone on the team invisible to heat vision, night vision, and normal sight, not to mention silent. Of course, they'd still have to see and hear each other, and she'd have to keep it up for possibly hours.

It wasn't impossible, Jimmy had told her, but it sounded pretty damn hard.

She sighed, thinking of water and trying to relax. As she did so, her image started to melt away, forming a puddle on the floor. She even nailed the dripping sounds. Once her image was gone and she was nothing but a puddle on the floor, the puddle evaporated, leaving nothing in its wake.

[She's really getting good at her exits, sir.]

[And we've only had her for a year. Imagine what she'll be able to do when we've had her for five.]

{March}

"You need to eat more," Jimmy stated as he carried her into the kitchen fireman style. Unlike Wade, who, during all two times he had to carry her, had carried her bridal style with a hint of respect, Jimmy carried her in the most uncomfortable and just plain aggravating way because he knew she hated it.

"I'm fine," she said weakly. Jimmy snorted, practically ripping off the door to the refridgerator and grabbing bacon, eggs, cheese, and bisquit mix. It looked like it was time for him to learn how to cook, because even though she knew how, Cassandra didn't eat anything other than Lucky Charms.

And Lucky Charms just weren't cutting it for her health.

"You're fine? Half-pint, your hips are practically cutting my shoulder open," Jimmy said. It was true. Maybe bridal style would have been a better choice. His shoulder was starting to go numb.

"I'm just skinny. It's genetic," she said. Her dad had been skinny and-

Well, then again, her father had also been a heroin addict, so there went her theory.

Jimmy sat her down on the counter, and she pulled her knees up to he chest, arms wrapped around her shins, watching tiredly as Jimmy started to cook.

--

Fifteen minutes later, eggs were everywhere, the cheese was burnt, the bacon slices were sticking to the ceiling, and Jimmy had massacred any hopes for Southern style biscuits.

"How the _fuck _do people cook omelets?" Jimmy demanded, staring at the egg shells in the bowl. Finally, he just threw the bowl into the wall, the ceramics shattering and the eggs inside of it sticking to the wall and running down the cement as he grabbed another bowl, filled it with Lucky Charms and milk to the brim, and shoved it at her.

"You win."

{April}

"Where are we going?" Jimmy asked as she dragged him by the hand down the hallway. She smiled.

"The kitchen," she said simplistically, dragging him with all the force in her skinny-assed body. Jimmy looked at her. His Cassie going to the kitchen willingly? After Victor attacked her?

She was up to something.

"Why?" he questioned gruffly. Her smile widened.

"I'm going to teach you how to cook, silly," she said childishly, tightening her petite, pale hand around his large tanned one and stumbling for a second. Jimmy went into protection over-drive.

"Are you okay, Half-pint?" he asked, she nodded slowly.

"Yeah... I'm just..."

"Just what?" Jimmy demanded.

"Sleepy-"

_Kathunk._

She fainted.

--

Stryker sat at his desk in his office drinking scotch, awaiting the doctor to see him.

[Wonder what they'll be talking about in there?]

[Vietnam, bombs, killing. Take your pick, Wade.]

[You really are a killjoy sometimes, Zero.]

[Just shut up or we won't hear anything, the both of you.]

[Keep your pants on, Jimmy.]

"How is she?" Stryker asked, getting up from his desk as the doctor came in, holding a clipboard. The doctor winced.

"She's not in the best condition she could be. Insomnia is a big part of the state she's in now, and she's under-eating. My assistants and I have linked it to her stress levels, which are off the charts."

"She witnessed her father's murder," Stryker said solidly. "I imagine that would shake her up a bit."

"With all due respect, Colonel, 'shaken up' is a bit of an understatement."

"Understood. What do you suggest we do about it?"

"Sleeping pills, firstly. Those should at least keep the nightmares at bay. Eating is the second most important thing. She was well hydrated, but she's incredibly underweight."

"I noticed she was getting thinner," Stryker mused. It wasn't amusing to the doctor, however.

"I asked her about it. She's been living off Lucky Charms and one-percent milk for a year. Occasionally fried chicken. Not exactly the healthiest of diets. It's actually the fact that she drinks three glasses of milk like a good little girl that's been keeping her alive and functioning," the doctor said angrily. "From now on, she needs to be eating three meals a day, high in veg, high in protein, with a good dose of fat. Butter, sour cream, higher percent milk, anything."

"I'll have the kitchen staff get right on that, doctor. Thank you for your services," Stryker said, nodding. The doctor narrowed his eyes and left. Obviously, the doctor was less than pleased with Stryker's 'parenting skills' if you could really blame him. After all, Jimmy was her mentor, not him, damnit.

[You realize that she won't eat that much in a month, let alone a day, right, Jim?]

[If you hold her down, Wilson, I think we can at least force a chicken leg down her.]

[Deal.]

{May}

"This is absolutely _ridiculous_!"

"Your fault, Half-pint," Jimmy said simply, shoving the plate of food towards her. It had been a month on this new diet of hers, and she still found it absolutely unnecessary. She had her arms crossed stubbornly, her layered boob-length burgundy hair center parted and wavy, framing her pouting face.

Wade liked to think he wasn't staring at her pink pouting lips, because that would be considered paedophile...ish.

"Wade, stop staring at me," Cassie ordered quietly, blushing slightly as she gave in, like she always did, and started to scarf down the broccoli on her plate. Jimmy had to admit it: Cassie was probably the only person he ever knew who actually liked vegetables.

"I wasn't staring," Wade defended. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, whatever," she said, cutting into the chicken. "And it's not my fault, Jimmy."

"Yes it is. You're the one who wasn't eating properly."

"You're the one who can't cook to save your life," she retorted.

"Ouch. Burn," Wade stage-whispered. Jimmy smacked him upside the head, making Cassie smile in amusement as Wade pouted like she had been a few minutes before.

She liked to think she wasn't staring at his boyish good looks, because that would be considered jail-bait..ish.

"Cassie, stop staring at me."

"I wasn't staring," she defended, going back to eating her chicken as Jimmy glanced oddly back and forth between the two.

"Okay, whatever," he said, using a falsesetto to mimic her voice. She sent him a look, her eyes narrowed. He gave her a glare right back.

"What? You want summa this, Half-pint?" he asked. 'Cocky' should have been written on his forehead in big, bold, neon letters.

"Not really. I'm not into guys who's egos are bigger than the planet they inhabit."

"That was a half-assed blow, Cassie. Do you even have any lows?"

"I'm hanging out with you, aren't I?"

"Ouch. Burn," Bolt stage-whispered from the couch. Wade flipped him the finger, his eyes still on hers.

"One day, Cassandra Blake, you are going to wake up to a very unpleasant surprise-"

"Like your face?"

"Ouch. Third degree," Bolt said, laughing. Jimmy tried to stop his laughter for the sake of Wilson's pride, but his body was shaking. Wade glared at her for a minute, silent.

"You're getting good," he stated proudly, smiling while his eyes shone with mischief like they did most of the time. She grinned in return, stabbing another piece of chicken.

"I learn from the best," she said, taking another bite.

After she said that, Wade's ego could have taken up the entire universe.

{August}

"You're getting stronger," Jimmy noted as she punched him in the face, then shook out of her knuckles.

"And more pain-stricken. Jesus, Jimmy, are your bones made out of metal or something?"

"No. You're just weak," he taunted. She glared and tackled him. This time, it took him down. She almost cried she was so happy.

Naturally, he threw her across the room not two seconds after he hit the floor, but she'd tackled him and it had worked, damnit. She was happy.

"It worked!" she said like she couldn't believe it, then did a dance of victory. For a girl who was living with a bunch of guys, Jimmy mused silently, she could at least dance without looking like a total idiot. He assumed the TV he installed in her room last month helped with the fact that she had zero female influences in her life.

Unless you considered Bolt a girl, which Jimmy sometimes did, when said tech-boy was being pissy.

"How much do you weigh now, anyway?" Jimmy asked, grabbing a towel from the corner of the room and chucking it to her. She caught it effortlessly, a perk of having sparred with Logan for an entire year, and shrugged, her dancing having come to a stop.

"I don't know. Something around one-twelve," she said mildly.

"That's eight pounds. That's good," Jimmy said. And even if it wasn't what she was supposed to weigh by now, according to her doctor, she did look better. She was all together less bony, and, if his eyes didn't decieve him, she actually had hips. Small ones, but she was thirteen and underweight. He wasn't asking for a _Charlie's Angels _kind of body on her (Lord knew he was going to have to fight the boys off of her with a chainsaw anyway once she got old enough), but the fact that she was getting curves was a good sign.

"Half-pint, where'd you learn how to dance like that?" Wade asked, coming in from the other room. He must have been looking through the small window in the door. She shrugged.

"Latino television," she explained shortly, patting the back of her neck with the towel, her back turned away from him. She had ditched her normal attire, which was the flannel shirts she'd stolen from Jimmy (her excuse was that he never really wore them anyway), her back exposed by the thin strapped camisole. Her scars showed, and moved when her scapula did. She rolled her shoulders and Wade stared at the scars, both angry and fascinated.

They looked like wings. Really morbid wings, Wade admitted to himself, but wings all the same. They started from just the tops of her shoulders and near her sides and ended within close proximity to her spine, drawing together slightly as they came to her vertebrae.

"Stop staring at me, Wade,"she said. He narrowed his baby browns at the back of her skull.

"I wasn't staring."

"Okay, whatever," she said, throwing her towel in the corner of the room and then breezing past him. His narrowed eyes turned into a glare as she passed.

No girl, especially as young as her, had any right to smell _that_ good after a good hour of intense and bloody training.

{November}

She didn't expect anything on her birthday. She'd be amazed if anyone remembered it at all. In fact, if she anticipated anything, it was Victor attacking her again, and this time actually finishing her off.

Yeah, you could say that she wasn't exactly the most optimistic of people. But would you be after dealing with two mentally scarring attacks?

[She's coming in!]

[SHHH!]

[This is so stupid. Why am I even here?]

[Zero, just shut up and work with us, okay?]

So when she walked into the rec room that morning around noon, the last thing she had anticipated was a huge birthday cake, presents on the table (one of them a six pack of beer), and no one in sight. Not even Dukes was visible. She crackled away, afraid that Victor might be near, and turned off the sound. She walked quietly through the kitchen and leaned over the table to see what the cake and presents were all about.

The cake had no writing on it, and looked like it had been made in a slight hurry the night before. The six pack of beer was the only obvious present on the table. The rest of were in boxes with duct-tape. She laughed, no noise escaping her lips. Instead of a make up set and presents wrapped in pretty paper like normal girls, she got a six pack of alcoholic beverage and presents in cardboard boxes with duct-tape. She shook her head, smiling.

Men.

She looked around a little more, and much to her liking, Jimmy had put a new box of Lucky Charms in the cupboard. Just as she went to reach for them, all hell broke loose.

"Rawr!"

She screamed, but luckily enough for everyone in the room it wasn't super-sonic.

Wade tackled her to the ground, landing on top of her with the biggest smirk/smile she'd ever seen him wear.

"Happy birthday, Angel!" he said cheerfully, using his newly developed nickname for her. She was still attempting to breathe properly.

"Wilson, get off of her, damnit, you're making her go into a panic attack!" Jimmy scowled, ripping Wade off of her and supporting her against the counter. "Cass, breathe."

She took a deep breath, and then several quick breaths later, she calmed down, and glared at Wade.

"Don't _do that!_" she said, getting up a bit shakily before she shrugged Jimmy's arm off of her shoulder and looked around. Dukes, Zero, Wade, Jimmy, Bolt, Wraith, and Victor were accounted for. Victor tossed her the six pack.

"Happy birthday, Half-pint," he said, giving her a wicked grin that made her skin crawl in a way that was so much more than unpleasant. She gave him a shaky smile.

"T-thanks, Victor," she replied, setting the beer on the counter. She'd give them to Jimmy. She wouldn't surprised if Victor had put some sort of poison in it, and while she'd die, Jimmy wouldn't.

A selfish thought, but hey, the guy could live through anything, so why not give him the beer?

She opened the presents after Dukes smashed his face into the cake, thinking it was funny. Wade almost murdered him on the spot, claiming that the cake was the only 'un-high protein' thing he would have had since he was sixteen. Then Victor said something, but she couldn't hear it due to the fact that Jimmy immediantly covered her ears as soon as Victor opened his mouth. The presents were things that you would expact from the men she lived with; a gun from Zero, a taser from Bolt, a really nice set of knives from Wade, brass knuckles from Wraith, a pack of Coca Cola from Dukes, and a new pair of blue Converse All Stars from Jimmy that were custom made so that metal cleats came out of the bottom when she tapped her feet together.

At least they were looking out for her.


	9. The Third Year

**{The Third Year}**

{March}

"I don't see why I have to be here," Jimmy growled, annoyed. He hated it when Stryker dragged him into Cassie's 'sessions', mainly because he couldn't drink beer in the testing room and because, unlike Cassie, he couldn't just mute Wade's voice when he wouldn't shut up. No, Jimmy had to deal with Wade like a normal human.

And it was starting to get on his last nerve.

"And that's about the time she started moaning my name." Wade was giving a far too detailed account of his latest sexual encounter while Cassie was trying to concentrate on the task at hand, which was hiding each one of her team mates with a different exit and keeping them hidden for several hours.

That was proving difficult when a certain twenty-one-year-old sword-slinging teammate of hers was talking about sex, something Jimmy just simply didn't talk about with her, which only made the subject more awkward than it was already.

"My God, Wilson, shut up and let the poor girl work," Zero said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Dukes was snoring in the corner; even an hour of Wade's detailed description of his latest sexual experience wasn't enough to keep the thick-skulled killer awake for more than twenty minutes. They'd gotten back from a mission not too long ago, the details of which Cassie wasn't allowed to know.

But right now, that was okay with her, because with the way Wade was talking, she was really starting to_ hate_ details. It was bad enough that it was _Wade_ out of all people talking about sex, but the details were just going too far.

And he knew. _Oh_, he knew. Otherwise he wouldn't have been talking so loudly. He knew his porn-talk was making her blush all those pretty shades of red from the tips of her toes to the roots of her burgundy hair. He knew a lot of things about Cassie, starting at the fact that she had a crush on him.

Oh yes she did, even if she failed to realize it quite yet. It made his ego swell to roughly the size of the entire universe, and it also meant he would make her life a living hell, and enjoy every second of it.

It was true, he was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch when it came to love, but he was a soldier, were you really expecting him to be some romantic poetical pussy like Lord Byron or something?

"And just the _sound_ of her-" Wade said. He was enjoying tormenting Cassie more than he loved his job, which was saying a lot. He didn't like her like that. No, Wade Wilson was not hitting on a fourteen-year-old girl. He was simply torturing her by making her feel special and then talking about his sexual encounters with other women. Call him an asshole, but Wade Wilson just loved to mess with Cassandra Blake.

Eventually, he predicted that she'd get payback in the far future when she was seventeen or twenty or something. But that was a good three to six years away, so he had time to live it up.

"And the way her body-" he started, but then found himself mute. Finally, Cassie had enough and just muted him out, even if it was against orders. Wade glared, shouting at the top of his lungs and jumping around and pointing to his throat to signal Stryker.

Just as Cassie made him dissapear with a violent explosion. The visual was astonishing, even to Jimmy. The way Wade's internal organs supposedly splattered against the wall, the sickening sound it made, you'd think that Cassie had actually witnessed someone getting hit with a grenade in real life. His brain, or what was left of it, stuck to the ceiling, and the image didn't fade for quite sometime, until she finished hiding the rest of the team. Wade stomped up and down on his supposed remains, yelling at her and pointing to his throat and then at his supposed body, which was smeared and spattered everywhere.

Obviously, he was not happy about her exit strategy for him.

She just smirked.

"Thank fucking _God_." Jimmy whined.

"Why thank God? I did the work," she sulked. Jimmy ruffled her hair, leaning on the wall right next to her.

"So you did," he admitted, as she made him disappear, his body melting into a pool of water and evaporating. He couldn't be seen on the screen, but he was easily visible to everyone in the room. Zero went away next, in a sudden and violent uproar of flame. Bolt fizzled away. Wraith got her favorite, the atomic bomb disintegration, and Victor simply faded away, because she didn't want to end up displeasing him and then hiding from him for weeks. Even if Stryker had warned him about attacking her again, would someone like Victor really listen to reason or warning? No, he wouldn't, that much she knew about him.

So, she didn't push it.

She made Dukes turn to dust, and then finally got to work on her newest exit on herself. It was like she was in a mirror. Suddenly, there was a violent cracking sound and her image cracked, falling away in shards that broke into tiny pieces on the floor like someone had punched the mirror she was standing in.

"That one's new," Bolt noted. She shrugged.

"Got the idea when Jimmy threw that bowl against the wall awhile back. It was really hard to get right," she admitted, then un-muted Wade. "Talk about sex, Wade, and I'm murdering you W-"

"No, talk about sex and _I'm_ murdering you," Jimmy promised. Wade stayed silent for a minute, and the team enjoyed a rare moment of silence.

"So, the sounds she was making were absofuckinglutely_ incredible_."

{July}

Cassie couldn't remember the last time she'd been outside in the summer. The climate seemed so foreign, so hot, and so bright, but that was probably because it was the middle of the summer. She was more of a winter type of girl, she had to admit, but Jimmy had pretty much begged her to get some fresh air, since she hadn't gone outside since she arrived at the base two years ago.

And what was Jimmy's idea of getting fresh air? Teaching her how to use a shotgun, of course.

"Okay, so, you know how to load it," Jimmy said, and she nodded, shaking slightly but keeping her breathing and pulse under control. She had watched enough violence on TV to get over her fear of guns. And even if she hadn't they would still be doing this, because once Stryker realized that she owned four guns (courtesy of Zero, who else?) that she never used, he insisted that she learn how to. She'd be on missions in a year either way. It was only right that she learn how to defend herself. After all, even if she knew how to fight in un-armed close range combat, she had no idea how to use swords or knives or guns. Well, she had some idea about guns, and she got the basic idea of knives, which was to stab and slice, but other than that, she was absolutely hopeless when it came to weapons.

"Right," she said, getting ready to shoot. Jimmy stood not three centimeters behind her, hands just milimeters over hers, incase something went wrong with the gun or if she went in a panic attack. She took a deep breath, and then let out slowly. "Right."

"Aim at your target," Jimmy instructed, and she straightened her back, keeping both aquamarine orbs open like Jimmy had instructed her earlier. "Shoot when you're ready."

She shot the first round off within two seconds, hitting the target dead on, and finished it off with the second. Not bad for fourteen-year-old girl shooting for her first time, Jimmy mused, really not bad at all.

They walked over to the target, a moving piece of cardboard with a picture of Victor's face taped to the front; Wade's idea, once he heard that she was going to start shooting. The face was completely gone; two shots and it was completely obliterated.

They still set the cardboard on fire and let it burn, stomping it out just before it caught the twigs underneath it on fire.

After all, if she learned anything worthwhile from Jimmy at all that could be linked in anyway to academics, it was that you should always burn the evidence.

{September}

"I love these things," she said fondly as she socked Jimmy in the face, brass knuckles breaking his cheekbone. She quickly dropped to her hands, drop-kicking him in the chest. He fell to the floor.

"Come on Jimmy, you can do better than this. If I beat you, Wade will never let it go," she taunted.

Jimmy growled and got up, kicking her in the ribs and sending her flying. He might have broken one, she thought as she stretched out to land on her hands and flip. He definitely cracked it at least, maybe even cracked two. She winced as she landed on her feet, off balance from pain, and sprained her ankle. She was wheezing slightly, but got up again, circling him before he came at her, six and two inches of 200 pounds of muscle coming at her. She dodged quickly and kicked his back while it was still turned at her, pain rocketing up her leg as she balanced on her sprained ankle. She had managed to send him off balance for a minute. But only a minute. He spun around, leg out. He kicked her right in the ribs, pain spasming through her body as she fell on to the mat.

She groaned with pain, and Jimmy felt guilt sink into him. She forced herself up, wincing and groaning in pain. He probably broke the ribs he cracked before, but the girl had some pride. Jimmy would be damned if she didn't learn it from Wilson. She still up rigidly and walked towards the door, which opened for her thanks to Wade. She walked past him, not even blushing, throwing Wade off-guard. He looked into the room, glaring at Jimmy.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" he demanded quietly as she limped down the hallway, biting her lip to muffle the sounds of her discomfort.

"We sparred. It got a little rough," Jimmy said, then added proudly, "she's a big girl, Wilson, she can handle herself. She doesn't need us, let alone _you, _to help her out. She's broken her arm in this sparring room. I think she'll be able to handle broken ribs."

"Like hell she can!" Wade said loudly enough for Cassie to turn her head around and look at him. He winked at her, setting her face aflame. He smirked before getting serious again. "She's fourteen. It's a miracle she can even cook something edible, let alone deal with injuries you give her without a healing factor like you!"

And with that, Wade slammed the door and jogged after Cassie to begin that day's torment. Jimmy snorted as he opened the door, watching as Cassie tried to ignore Wade's presence. He'd have to kill that son-of-a-bitch someday. Wade was just messing with her feelings, and it would probably end with someone murdering someone else. Specifically, Jimmy murdering Wade as Dukes held him down.

Bolt was already plotting to get even on the sword-swinging merc for messing with Cassie's feelings, in an 'older brother who wants to kill any guy who comes near his baby sister' kind of way. Jimmy had no arguments on the matter.

After all, tasing Wade and beating him with a baseball bat seemed like a great idea to him, too.

{November}

"Wake up, Angel, time is money," Wade said, strolling into her room (after he picked the lock) like he owned the place. She was lying on her stomach, duvet covering all of her but the top of her head, burgundy hair looking like purple-brown fire against the white sheets, and one of her feet, which was dangling off the side of the bed. She stirred slightly and groaned.

"Wade, get out of my room," she mumbled, image flickering slightly from alarm. No one but Jimmy or Bolt ever came into her room. Her heart beat ten times faster than it had been before as her arms curled around her pillow, pulling it closer to her as she tried to get back to sleep. Wade grinned.

"Don't think so, Angel. You're training with me today. If ever going to use the knives I gave you, you're going to use them properly. You nearly killed yourself just opening the damn butterfly knife, let alone using it." Her heart skipped beats at the way he was being so simply demanding about it, and just the thought of training with Wade made her face flush. If she'd been fully awake, she probably would have willingly gone with him, but acted like she wasn't. But she was tired as hell, and it was barely seven in the morning.

And let's face it, this was Wade. In her room. Alone. This wasn't exactly a normal or un-tense situation.

"Oh, bite me," she spat tiredly, glaring weakly at him as she turned, curling up on her side now.

"Gladly. Where?"

Her face lit up violently. Her face went from ivory slightly flushed from sleep to crimson flushed from a perverted comment within milliseconds. The fact that her blush could make such a quick appearance always managed to entertain him.

"Stop staring at me," she muttered, still blushing even as she hid it by covering her face with her hair.

"I wasn't staring," Wade defended.

"Okay, whatever," she said, snuggling deeper into the sheets as she smiled tiredly. This conversation had come to be their inside joke of sorts, simply because the replies were always the same and because it happened so often.

After a minute of Wade whistling cheerfully, just as she was starting to pretend that she was falling asleep (how the hell could she fall asleep with Wade standing around in her room?), Wade stopped, and used his best 'don't fuck with me I'm your superior and I can take Jimmy on so don't even try and rat on me' voice.

"I mean it, Cassie, get up and to training in the next five minutes or I'm raiding your panty drawer."

She was silent for another minute, before she sighed angrily, giving in.

"You are so immature!" she exclaimed, turning invisible and padding over to her sink.

Wade tapped his foot, as he watched her wash her face and brush her teeth, or rather how the faucets turned themselves and how a toothbrush and toothpaste hovered in mid-air. The water stopped running and the towel on the heater moved with her as she walked to her closet, then throwing the towel back on to the heater. Sweatpants were yanked from the middle cubby, then a white V-neck T-shirt from the top shelf. Socks were slipped onto invisible feet and finally, shoes were pulled on. Her clothes visible but her own skin transparent, she tapped her feet together. The cleats jutted out, sharp and menacing. Satisfied with the result, she tapped her feet back together and faded back to visibility. She got up from her seat on the cold cement floor and looked in the mirror above her sink, tying her hair back into a messy bun with strands falling into her face. She smudged on a little eyeliner, did a coat of mascara, and applied Chapstick before she slipped a sweatband on her right wrist and turned to Wade, hands on her hips.

"Let's get this over with. I'm starving."

--

"Okay," Wade said, standing with his katanas drawn. They were in the sparring room, Wade in black sweats and a wife beater with his sword sheaths strapped to his back. "Attack me."

She stared at him like he had seven heads, looking at him for a minute, then the twin swords, and then the issued Marine combat knife in her hand. She shook her head.

"No way," she said. "You've got two katanas and I've got a Marine fighting knife. There's no possible way for me to beat you."

"Well, in reality, no," Wade said cockily, "but once you learn how to use that knife, and if I was a normal person of medium sword skill, you'd be able to beat me."

"And how would that work exactly?" she asked, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow. He smirked.

"Once you shut up and let me talk, Angel, you'll know exactly how."


	10. The Fourth Year

**{The Fourth Year}**

{February}

They were playing poker again, all drinking beers. Well, Zero had vodka. He wasn't exactly a 'beer kind of guy', as he put it. In other words, he drank to get drunk, not for the slight buzz that Cassie did.

She was in her normal seat, between Bolt and Jimmy, holding a full house. They had played poker many times over the past four years, and the only person ever to beat her had been, ironically enough, Dukes. She had lost the remainder of her Coca-cola, one of Jimmy's shirts, and she had to do her own math homework. That day, she had vowed to win since, because no pretty girl, she reasoned, should have to do things on her own. They shouldn't pay for their own drinks, they shouldn't have to pay to live somewhere, and they certainly shouldn't do their own math assignments.

She took a sip of her beer, stretched out with her chair leaning back slightly. Jimmy had his arm around the back of the chair, afraid that it would tip over. Her feet were on the table, her hand just within reach of the kitchen counter where her beer sat. She looked at her cards again. Third full house this year, and it was February. She wondered vaguely if Zero set the cards up just so that she would win.

She doubted it. Zero had too many sticks up his ass to be nice.

"Any other bets?" she asked carelessly, throwing in the flannel shirt she'd been wearing and Zero's watch, which she'd won the first time they'd played. It was Rolex. She wondered idly when Stryker was going to pay her. He had, after all, said he would pay her.

She guessed he'd pay her when she actually did something than eat, drink, sleep, train, and study, though it would have been nice if someone paid her to do her math homework.

"I bet Cassie's virginity," Wade announced, writing it on his napkin and slapping it into the middle of the table. Bolt and Jimmy, who'd been taking a gulp of beer, spit it out simultaneously, whipping their heads instantly to glare at Wade in a way that should have sent him so deep underground that he'd be able to poke the earth's core. She blushed so deeply it was hard to tell her skin from her hair while Zero stared at Wade in pretty much utter shock. Dukes stared, but then again, he'd been staring out into space before Wade's bet, so that wasn't saying much. Victor had choked on his beer and was currently coughing up a storm while trying to fight off heavy laughter, which ended up sounding like a dolphin getting raped by a grizzly bear.

Wade just sat there, legs now up on the table, hands behind his head he titled his chair back, smiling.

"Any other bets?" he asked, looking around the table. Within a second, he was on the floor, Jimmy's claws extended, and Bolt was loading his gun.

If Cassie hadn't won the game that night, Wade Wilson wouldn't have lived to see dawn.

{May}

"I don't get why you like him," Jimmy said, panting as he found himself in a deadlock as they sparred. Damn, he really shouldn't have encouraged her to take up yoga so she could be more flexible.

"Explain," she ordered, her face facing his. Jimmy struggled, but she held him down, giving him a good punch in the shoulder without her usual weapons. Thank God.

"He's an ass. His past time is tormenting you. He enjoys leading you on. He will never take you seriously, even when you're twenty-one. He bet your _virginity_ in a fucking _card game_, Cass. Do you really need anymore reasons?" Jimmy asked gruffly, straining against his own body to try and get out of her grip. Somehow, she kicked him in the stomach.

"No, I don't," she said. "I know he's probably not the first guy you would have wanted me to like." That comment earned her the 'no shit, Sherlock' look. "And I know he'll probably screw me over, but I live in a military base with six other guys. Who do you expect me to fall in love with, Dukes?"

"There are other guys on the base-"

"That I see?"

"...Point taken," he said, struggling again and only finding himself in a more uncomfortable hold than the one he'd previously been in.

"I'm a tough girl, I can handle a little heart break," she said sternly. "And as for the fact that he'll never take me seriously? None of you will, and if anyone especially, you. You've watched me grow up here, there's no way in hell that you'll be able to take me seriously. I could attempt to murder you trying to get you to take me seriously and you'd still think I was your little girl."

"True," he chuckled, then flipped her over, then succeeded in throwing her across the mat. She got up instantly, rolling her neck. "Call it a day?" he proposed, and she nodded, rubbing her neck before grabbing her towel. Jimmy lit up a cigar on their way out and she coughed.

"I wish you'd quit those," she muttered, hating the smell.

"Well I'm not," Jimmy said. He was just as stubborn as her, damn it, and he was not giving up his cigars, even if the Apocalypse was upon them.

"So you love those things more than me?" she demanded, trying to play the guilt trip. Jimmy stopped, acting like he was thinking about it. She narrowed her eyes and stormed down the hallway.

"Jerk."

Jimmy laughed.

{December}

"Come on, Angel, Jimmy and I had to teach you better than this," Wade taunted, blocking another attempt to stab his easily, the steal of his katanas scraping against the Marines issued knife in her hands. She gave a small frustrated scream and dropped back on her hands as he swung at her legs, narrowly avoiding his twenty-third attempt at decapitating her.

"We've been going at this," she said through gritted teeth as she dropped to her back, his sword swishing missing her nose by mere milimeteres, "for two hours!"

"Remember our deal. Win and this will all be over," he said, swinging at her arm. She blocked it and lept away.

_It had been their first day, back in November, five days before she turned fifteen. She had failed epically, but neither one of them were expecting her to be fantastic. Her hands were sliced up, mostly from her own knife because it was hard to hold on to when it was slippery with blood, and she had a small slice on her leg, blood seeping into the black sweats. He smirked at her as she lay on the floor, glaring at the ceiling like she intended on somehow killing said inanimate structure. He offered his hand, a rare thing for him to do, and she took it, wincing as pain radiated from her hand and into the rest of her nervous system._

_"I suck," she declared proudly, and the statement threw Wade off a bit, but he didn't show it. He just smirked at her again, wiping the her blood from her hand on to his wife beater._

_"With practice you won't," Wade said, forcing the word 'suck' out of his head as he got a sudden image of what making out with her would be like. Damn, he needed to get laid again, he thought, as they walked into the kitchen. "I'll make a deal with you."_

_"Shoot," she said, grimacing as she broke out Zero's secret stash of Russian vodka, pouring it into a small bowl and then soaking a towel in it. Her grimace worsened as she took said towel out and started to clean her wounds, the alcohol stinging as it seeped into the cuts. She dipped the towel back into the bowel. The vodka turned a bloody shade of pink as she got to work on her leg._

_"If you manage to make me bleed, we end training sessions. If you make me bleed, you're ready for the missions. No rules on how, just make me bleed."_

_"Deal."_

"Two fucking hours!" she whined as she came back from her little trip down memory lane, narrowly escaping Wade's attempt to pin her to a tree. She dashed away, Wade stalking over to her.

"Foul language isn't meant for pretty girls. And you're alive, so obviously two hours isn't enough," Wade said simply. He was bored, she could tell, and the cure to his boredom, usually, was making her life a living hell, or at least to make her blush, which he succeeded in when he called her 'pretty'. Wade went into slash her face again, but she blocked the overhead swing just as it got near her ivory neck, capturing one blade with a brass knuckle clad hand and the knife in her right hand. She pushed up with all her force, feet on the ground, knees bent, but head on the ground, an angular arch. She kicked him where it counted and managed to fling the one sword out of his hand, on to the ground. She did a dive-roll, something she hadn't been able to do in fifth grade when she had to make up a gymnastics routine for PE, and remembering his deal, turned invisible in the blink of an eye, the sound of her footsteps gone, as she hid behind a tree.

Wade had said no rules, but it never occurred to her that it meant she could use her mutation at any time she wanted. A year and a month of this, and not once had she thought of using her stealth to win. She guessed it failed to dawn on her because of the fact that when she sparred Jimmy, the rule was for her to stay visible and audible. With Wade, she could do anything to make him bleed.

And anything was just what she was going to do.

She had come up with a plan, even if she hated the idea of making Wade bleed. That was the goal, after all, but it was still Wade, still someone she cared about. Despite popular belief, she didn't enjoy hitting Jimmy during their spars, either, but that was just the way things went. All of the things she learned during recess at elementary school, you know, 'don't hit others' and 'hitting is wrong' no longer applied to her life. She lived with seven men in the military, you beat the shit out of each other and then clink beers a few minutes later and watch football. There was no time for womanly grudges, you had jobs to do; you had to be friends, or at least deal with each other. You couldn't bitch at each other or beat each other up when you were on the battle field. You had to bitch and beat up the enemy. You trained with and injured the same guy you trusted with your life. It was how the military operated.

Cassie shook her head, Wade's sword in one hand and her Marines knife in the other, brass knuckles pressing into her skin. She really had to thank Wraith for them again. They came in handy. She shook her head and told herself to concentrate; she still wasn't sure if this would work or not, or if she would be able to stay awake through it. It was difficult, and rough. She hadn't had a lot of time to perfect it. Stryker hadn't even seen it yet.

She made one to start with, to send him off balance. She concentrated on the area to his right, and the air started to shimmer there. Within a second, a picture perfect copy of Cassie stood, hands crossed with Wade's sword in one hand, the knife in the other, smirk on her face. She had a look on her face that told Wade to bring it, and he smirked, slicing through her. He almost fell over, having put to much motion into the swing because he expected the fight of human flesh and bone, but only got air. He quickly recovered and slashed her again, only getting the fake Cassie to giggle at him. The real Cassie smirked.

Brilliant, now she needed a little more cover if she was going to get this over with.

Twenty more Cassandra Blakes arrived in different fashions. Some came out of the ground, others came out of trees, other appeared out of thin air, and the rest of them came in with a reverse of her mirror exit. She sent them all around him, and made them do different things. Some hummed and skipped, others swung the sword around tauntingly. Wade held fast to his sword, pivoting, obviously intimidated to some degree. After all, he had no idea that she was capable of this sort of stuff, she barely knew it herself before her current place. Some of the 'clones' swung at him, while others laughed and pointed. He swung through one who was leaning against a tree, and she just smirked, flipping him the bird and giving him a very unimpressed look. Wade's face showed slight panic, and Cassie knew it was now or never, before he figured out that none of them were her. She ran into the mass, the images never changing to shimmering as she walked through them, completely invisible. She was on an adrenaline high. She bolted through, and dropped to her knees, her cargo pants skidding on the winter snow before she stained it red, slicing her knife through his calve.

The Cassie's dissapeared, and she reappeared, lying in the snow, legs out awkward because her knees had been underneath her. She was breathing hard, drained of most of her energy from the trying distraction, but a smile was on her face, victory radiating from her as Wade looked down at her with shock, blood pouring from his left calve. She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with the knowledge that she had made the ever-famous Wade Wilson bleed. She took a shaky breath in, smile a mile wide as he stared at her.

"I win."


	11. The Fifth Year

**{The Fifth Year}**

{January}

[You think she's awake by now?]

[Only one way to find out.]

The last thing she remembered was making Wade bleed, his face looking down at her as she smiled up at him, cold snow surrounding her. She remembered using clones to beat him, the farthest she'd ever gone with her mutation.

And it seemed to be the limit.

She was hooked up to numerous machines, one beeping with her heart, another going with her breathing. She was wearing a hospital dress and underwear, and it was absolutely freezing in the room she was in. She moved, but winced when she felt the needles in her skin dig and wiggle. She ripped the IV's out slowly, her hands and arms aching from having fluid being pumped into them for God knew how long, and she struggled to sit up. Everything in her body felt like it hadn't been used in weeks, numb and tired.

She stretched shakily, taking a deep breath of air as her vision swam. She noted the slight but rank odor of Jimmy's cigars and smiled when she saw the hoodie and sweats on the table next to her bed. She yawned tiredly, limbs shaking as if she had a stroke or something, and struggled out of the hospital gown, flickering her skin to invisible weakly. It wasn't as easy as before, but it wasn't impossible. Obviously, she wasn't fully healed in the area of her mutation. She tugged on the hoodie, Bolt's smell invading her senses, the smell she linked to family, to an older brother of sorts. She had trouble getting on the sweats, but she managed. She was still desperately cold, shivering in the warm clothing, so she sank into the hospital bed, running a hand over her face as a yawn over took her, her limbs still shaking. It wasn't long before she fell asleep.

--

"God damnit, woman, you weren't supposed to take those out!" was the first thing she heard roughly an hour later. She looked up weakly, seeing Zero glaring at her with Wade, Bolt, and Jimmy behind him. "How the fuck is Stryker supposed to send you on a mission with us if you can't even fucking deal with IVs?!"

Obviously, Zero was either drunk or not a very happy man at the moment... or both.

"They're just IV's," she said. Speaking was a little difficult, but just a little. "H-how long was I out for?" she asked, getting up in bed. Bolt and Jimmy rushed to her, helping her up and puffing up a pillow, putting it behind her head. She smiled, then sniffled as she suddenly realized that she felt like she had a cold. "Thanks."

"Five days," Zero muttered, glaring at her as he started gathering the IV's together. She groaned.

"Five days?!" she whined, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Why?"

"Someone pushed you too hard," Bolt bit out, glaring heatedly at Wade, who had stayed more towards the back of the room.

"But, he didn't-" she tried to tell them that it had all been her. She was the one who pushed herself too far.

"You had a fucking stroke. A fucking massive stroke, because he pushed you too hard," Jimmy growled. "He's lucky to be alive," he shot, the glare he gave Wade was crippling. She pushed herself up further on the bed and then jumped when Zero jabbed a needle back into her vein.

"Ow!" she hissed. "Son of a bitch!"

"Well, she has her reflexes," Zero mused in quite _un_amusing manner, then continued to stick the IVs back into their original places. She winced every time a needle went in to her.

"See? I'm fine," she insisted, then bit her lip when the biggest needle, the one for water, was shoved back into its place. "I'll be walking by tomorrow and fighting in a week. I promise." Then she looked at the medical papers taped to the side of her bed, squinting at the doctor's handwriting. "And, if I'm literate at this point, it wasn't a 'fucking massive' stroke. Tiny one. Barely caused any damage. I'm fine."

"You're anything but fine!" Jimmy roared, suddenly livid with an anger that rolled off him in tsunami-sized waves. "You could have died, he pushed you so hard! You could have fucking died! You were in a coma for five days!"

"But I didn't," she interrupted. "I'm alive, I'm breathing, I'm talking, and in a little while, I plan on walking."

"He-" Jimmy started, but she glared at him, making him shut up instantly.

"Wade didn't do anything other than help me train, Jimmy. I've been through worse than this, and you know that. You were there," she bit out. That made most of the men in the room shut up. The silence was awkward, only filled with the beeps of monitors and some sighs, until Stryker strolled in.

"Ah, Cassandra, I'm glad to see you're awake," he said fondly. "Well, other than the fact that you're awake and talking, we've got some other good news about your mutation."

"Really?" Jimmy asked, somewhat sarcastically. Stryker shot him a look and continued.

"We've learned that your mutation isn't invisibility," Stryker said.

"How?" Wade asked, opening his mouth for the first time, and nothing funny or sarcastic coming out. If Cassie had been paying attention, she might have fainted at the rare occurrence.

"Well, first off all, Cassie can turn anyone invisible," Stryker said, "and she doesn't have to touch them to do it. Though the first hint was when I noticed that whatever she was wearing turned invisible with her. When she started to do different exits and entrances, we theorized that she was simply manipulating the light around her to create images, or lack thereof. Manipulation of light waves explained everything, the sound, the ability to hide from heat vision, and the ability to hide more than just herself."

"Question: how does light waves explain the sound?" Bolt asked. Cassie thought back to all those science classes she had to endure and took a shot.

"Radio waves? It's the only possible way I could have... but wait, my screams?" Cassie said, looking at Stryker. He grinned.

"Radio waves. Correct, Cassandra. The screams were also radio waves, but you amplified them. You mute things out with silent radio waves, not by muting the actual sound waves," Stryker explained. "Either way, we weren't entirely sure about Cassandra's mutation until five days ago when she fought Wade. Thanks to the few cameras outside, we were able to draw conclusions once Cassie started to make 'clones'. The fact that they weren't stoic and moved around was incredible. It even impressed the President of the United States," Stryker said proudly, smiling at her.

"Welcome to the team, Cassandra."

{April}

"He'll never love you back," Jimmy said, claws out as she twirled a new knife, one that Wade had carved her initials into. She swiped at his arm, missing. He took her feet out from under her, and pinned her to the floor. She looked up at him, glaring.

"No one will ever love me the same amount I love them," she said, looking him dead in the eyes. "It's life."

Jimmy looked at her; she'd grown up right before his eyes. Five years. Five incredibly short years. She was still too young to know what heart break felt like. Barely seventeen. Never been on a mission. She should have had a normal life, Jimmy thought, one out of the military. She should be going to high school and making boys swoon and playing varsity volleyball or something. Instead, here she was, knife in one hand as she stared up at him, aqua eyes hard but still breakable, hair like dark brown fire, ivory skin over slender curves and bone. She shouldn't have liked/loved a man like Wade, so much older than her and so sadistic when it came to love. She'd only get hurt. He'd never be good enough for her. Then again, no man would ever be good enough for her in Jimmy's eyes.

"You're too young to understand," Jimmy said, shaking his head and then getting up, putting out his hand. She took it despite the fire in her eyes.

"I'll always be too young to understand," she told him, and walked out of the room.

{August}

The days she met Seth had been one of the days Wade had gone overboard on making her life a living hell. She'd walked into the kitchen, freshly showered after sparring with Jimmy for an hour or two, to find a pretty blonde woman wrapped around him, Wade pinned to the counter. It was a stab in the front, directly pointed at her heart. She stopped dead in her tracks, image flickering as she struggled to stay silent, to not say anything, to walk away like it didn't bother her.

Sure, she'd known that Wade had been seeing other women. After all, she was sixteen, and she certainly hadn't marked him as hers in any situation. But it still hurt to see him with a pretty little woman wrapped around him moaning his name.

God, it hurt.

She forgot how to breathe as she grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, her wet hair chilling as the cool air rushed out, waking her up slightly from her shocked and hurt daze. She moved slowly, feeling like everything was going in slow-motion as she shut the fridge and stood there for a minute, looking at him. His eyes were open, watching her as he sucked face with the blonde. She looked him in the eye for a second before she shook her head, turning and walking away. "I'm so stupid," she whispered as she left.

Wade watched her go, wondering why her reaction didn't make him feel like he ruled the world like it normally did.

--

She walked around the base, getting totally lost but not really caring. It wouldn't have surprised if she was walking around in circles, stopping every once and awhile to beat her fist against a wall or tug her hair and tell herself that she was stupidest little girl in the history of the universe for even liking Wade at all. She didn't cry, though. No, Cassandra Blake simply did not cry, at least not over a silly crush.

After what seemed like hours of storming the hallways, beating up her ego and slapping herself mentally and telling herself to get a grip but never doing so, she sunk to the floor, leaning against a wall and looked around. The good and bad thing about Stryker's base was that every hallway seemed to look the same. There was no differing wallpaper, no different carpets, no different _anything_. It all looked the same.

And she was hopelessly lost. Before, when she'd been walking, that hadn't bothered her, but now she found herself deep within the base and having no clue as to where she was.

Just. Fucking. _Brilliant._

"Hey," an unfamiliar voice said, and she looked up, her having been in her hands, elbow resting on her knees. A guy stood towering above her, he was probably a little bit taller than Jimmy but not as tall as Wade. He had black hair that had a few layers in the front, black eyes, and a small beard on the point of his chin (black). His build reminded her of a mix of Jimmy and Wade: not lean, not bulky, but obviously strong. "You okay?" he asked, voice deep.

She rubbed her eyes, sniffed a bit, and shook her head. She was _not _crying over some dumb-ass like Wade. She _wasn't_. She looked up at him after taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm good, though I'm kind of lost. You know how to get to the testing rooms? I can find my way from there."

He smiled, and she felt her heart quicken just a little bit. He had a great smile. "Yeah, I can get you there. What's your name? I didn't know Stryker kept hot women stashed in the testing rooms," he said, smirking at the way her cheeks flared up just a little bit. She grinned, flattered, as he helped her up, pulling up her weight like it was nothing with one hand.

"Cassie. I didn't know Stryker kept hot guys stashed in the back," she retorted, grinning.

Holy hell. Was she flirting?

"What's yours?"

"Seth," he said as he started to lead the way towards the testing rooms. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what is a girl like you doing in a military base?"

"Employment," she said simply, not going into detail. "What about you? You don't look much older than me."

"Employment," he said. "How old are you? Eighteen?"

"Sixteen," she admitted, flattered by the fact that he thought she was older than that. "You?"

"Nineteen. I could have sworn you were older," he insisted. She shrugged it off.

"Sixteen. Seventeen in a few months. So what exactly is your employment?"

"Simple stuff," Seth explained. "Developing weapons for the military. Guys in the back call me Stark as a joke."

So he was hot _and _he could do her pre-calc homework?

Score.

{November}

"Where do you think you're going?" Jimmy asked as she walked into the rec room clad in those damn ass-hugger jeans he got for her that made Wade lose concentration on whatever he was doing.

"Out," she said simply, getting a quick drink of water. She had on a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, too, the neck stretched so that one of her shoulders and a bra strap showed. Jimmy noted that she had recently showered, the scent of sugar and cinnamon that he knew was hers drafting through the room.

"Out where?" Wade asked, suddenly involved in the conversation as well.

"To dinner," she said nonchalantly. Wade spit out the beer he was drinking, making Zero snort in laughter. Victor grinned.

"Where and with who?" Jimmy said, claws coming out just at the very idea of any man touching her in a way he didn't approve of.

"In Clearview," she said, talking about the closest town. "With Seth," she added, taking a drink of water. Her gut was doing flips, she was so nervous. First date jitters, even if she'd been talking and flirting with the guy for months.

"Who the fuck is _Seth?" _Wade demanded, saying his name like it was some sort of horrible disease. She glared at him, aquamarine eyes crippling.

"A guy I met when I got lost in the base awhile back," she said. "Jimmy's met him. He doesn't have a problem with him."

True enough, Jimmy really didn't see a problem with the guy other than the fact that he'd caught him making out with Cassie a few days ago. It was a traumatic event he doubted would ever leave his mind.

"How long have you known him for?" Wade asked. "A day? An hour?"

"Almost three months," Cassie shot back. "Longer than you knew that blonde whore you had in here awhile ago, that's for sure."

Jimmy suddenly felt the air shift from 'okay, we're having a little over-protective issue because Cassie's been attacked before' to 'Wade will fucking murder him if he even looks at her because, well, we're not really sure yet' in Wade and Cassie's conversation. Jimmy smirked.

Was Wilson, dare he say it, getting _jealous_?

"That was different," Wade defended, "and-"

"Bull crap," Cassie spat. "God, Wade, after four years of leading me on, you can't let me go on a date with a guy I'm interested in?"

Wade ignored the comment, using a different approach. "He's just going to fuck you over and then leave you, Cass-"

"And what do you do with your women, huh?" she demanded. "_Make love_to them and then cook them breakfast? God, you are such a hypocrite, Wade," she said, starting to walk out. He was at the door in lightening speed.

"You're not going out with this guy," he stated, drawing his swords. She grabbed a butchers knife that sat on the counter.

"Yes, I am," she said through gritted teeth. "Move."

"No way in hell," Wade said simply. "You're not going off to make-out with some douche bag I've never met-"

"Too late for that one," she said, arms crossed stubbornly as she smirked at him. Wade felt his control slipping.

He was going to fucking _murder_ this guy for touching Cassie, no matter how much she begged and pleaded for him to spare the jackass. He would decapitate this son-of-a-bitch as slowly as humanly possible and make sure it hurt as much as it possibly could.

No one touched Cassie. Ever.

Wade was so caught up in absolute fury that he failed to realize Cassie was gone until he came back to earth, seeing only Zero and Jimmy staring at him from the couch. Then he got a hard kick in the ass, sending him off balance, before Cassie turned visible again and walked away.

Wade watched her go with a glare and a sick feeling in his stomach. The glare was because she literally kicked his ass. The sick feeling... The sick feeling was because he knew she was trying to get even with him for all those years of leading her on and tormenting her. But worst of all?

It was working.


	12. Confrontations

**{Confrontations}**

Wade watched through one of the doorway, bitter winter cold hitting his face as he scowled at them. The ever happy couple.

"Seth!" she complained as a snowball hit her leg. Wade hated the way she said his name, like she cared about him, like she _liked _him. "These are my favorite jeans!"

"Whoops," he said sarcastically, grinning as he aimed another snowball, but got one in the chest, soaking his open jacket and long sleeved T-shirt. He let out a laugh, rugged and deep, and she could have sworn that she almost swooned as she scooped up another snowball, ready to aim. Seth was amazing. Six months they'd been together, and Cassie actually liked him, and she hoped she wasn't subconsciously using him, because Seth was amazing. Smart, hot, sexy, and funny. Everything a girl could ask for. The fact that he didn't have a long distance girlfriend surprised her. Women should have been hunting him down or something.

She giggled. She fucking _giggled_. Wade's anger went up several notches as Seth, that mother-fucking bastard, started to chase her around, abandoning his perfectly engineered snow fort to chase her around the snow covered bank of Alkali Lake. Cassie screamed when Seth tackled her, taking her down into the snow as he landed on top of her. He fucking _landed on top of her_! Wade was gripping the door so hard it had actual dents in it.

Seth landed on top of her, and while they got their breath back, he smiled oh-so innocently at her, like he hadn't planned this at all. She fell for his smile every time, and she smiled back, struggling to get her hands free as he leaned down. She cupped his face when his lips touched hers.

It was amazing, she thought, that after so many kisses, the simple gesture could still make her cheeks flush. She smiled when he nipped her bottom lip, keeping most of his weight off of her and balanced on his elbows, which were on either side of her face. Her hands went to his neck, playing with his hair, and he gave a sigh of contentment that made her shiver.

Wade had it. He was running out of time to tell her to get ready, anyway. He took several breaths for the sake of keeping his control as he walked down the slope towards them, wanting nothing more than to rip the jackass off of her and turned him into chopped liver, literally. When he got closer, they were still kissing, in their own little world. Her hands were in his hair in a way that made Wade sick to his stomach, and Seth's hands were in her hair, too, but they weren't giving little tugs or twirls like she was doing to him.

It took all of Wade's control, every last strand of it, to not murder Seth's ass here on the bay of the lake with her watching. He had decided, not too long after she kicked his ass in the rec room, that he would kill Seth, but he would have to do it when she wasn't around, because the last thing he wanted her to see was just how sadist and violent he could be.

As if stabbing a butcher's knife into Victor's neck years back hadn't been enough to prove that, he thought numbly.

"Cassie," he said roughly, trying to sound like their little make-out session wasn't bothering him at all. Cassie gave Seth one more lingering kiss before she gently pushed him off of her. Why she bothered to do so gently, Wade had no idea. The guy could probably take Jimmy on, if Jimmy didn't have a massive healing factor and claws and the rage of a father-like figure. While Jimmy didn't really hate Seth like Wade did, Jimmy was still the closest damn thing Cassie ever had to a real father-figure, and he'd be damned if Jimmy's insanely overly-protective nature didn't come out once and awhile when Seth walked Cassie to her room, where Jimmy waited for her on the nights she went out, polishing an AK-47.

Yeah, you could say that Jimmy was a little protective of Cassie.

"What?" she asked tiredly, like she didn't want him there, and then she giggled when Seth kissed her neck, making her squirm slightly. Wade's eyes narrowed at Seth with murderous intent, but he talked to Cassie.

"Stryker says to get ready. Your first mission is in eight hours," Wade said, voice growling as Seth scooted closer to her, kissing the column of her neck from her jaw to where her coat got in the way, making her fight off the reflex to squirm.

"Okay," she said, moving towards Seth before she shoved a snowball in his hair and then started running for the hills, laughing her pretty little ass off. Seth groaned, but laughed, looking at Wade.

"She's something, huh?" he said, shaking the snow out of his hair. Wade glared at him.

"Just be thankful she's here right now, kid, or else you'd be bleeding all over the snow in pieces," Wade threatened viciously. Seth looked at Wade for a second, not exactly scared but not exactly comfortable, either, before he shook his head.

"Man, if you love her so much-"

"I don't love her," Wade interrupted violently.

"Fine, whatever. But she doesn't deserve this sort of bullshit from you," Seth said, walking away and then running after Cassie. He threw a snowball, but it went right through her. "Hey! No mutations! That's cheating!"

Cassie laughed, sticking out her tongue at him as her head popped up from behind his snow fort, the other Cassie vanishing. Seth dove over the wall and they tumbled in the snow, Wade unmoving.

_"Fine, whatever. But she doesn't deserve this sort of bullshit from you."_

--

She yawned tiredly as she stepped out of the shower, one towel around her and another in her hand as she dried her hair, and almost had a heart attack when she ran right into Wade's chest.

"What the hell-?" she said, but then looked up, and saw his face. Despite the fact that she was in a somewhat serious relationship with Seth, who was amazing in all ways possible, her heart sped up at the sight of Wade.

Especially Wade in her bathroom, when she only had a towel on...

"He's not good for you," Wade said, crossing his arms as she stood there, looking at him like he was some sort of angel who appeared out of nowhere, her hair wet and tangled, the scent of sugar and cinnamon rolling off of her in waves. She shook her head slightly, like she was just getting out of a long daydream, and walked past him, into her room. She stopped at the sink and splashed her face with water.

"He's plenty good for me," she replied, pumping soap into her hands and washing her face. Wade's blank expression soon turned to a scowl.

"He's too old for you," he tried, though it was a stupid thing to say and they both knew it.

"He's only two years older than me," she said, splashing her face once more and watching as the soap whirled down the small drain. She grabbed the towel off the heater and patted her face dry.

"He just wants sex," Wade growled, getting angrier every time she had a reply to his accusation. She dabbed some lotion into her hands and rubbed them together, then spreading it across her face.

"That all men ever want," she said matter-o-factly, grabbing her comb and starting to comb out the knots in her hair. Wade glared at her the back of her head, standing in the doorway to her bathroom.

"He'll leave you," Wade declared.

"Your ego has no end, does it?" she spat. Wade was confused as to what she meant, how that was even linked to him leaving her, but retorted anyway.

"You're too young to understand," Wade said, livid. She whirled around.

"And I'll always be too young to understand!" she yelled back, throwing her comb to the floor.

Their glares at each other were crippling as he stalked closer. "You know you don't love him, so why are you even with him?"

"You wouldn't know love if it bit you in the ass," she said, her glare becoming more heated. "And I'm with him because he makes me happy!" she said, voice loud but not quite yelling.

"Anyone can make you happy," Wade spat. "You're just don't get it!"

"Get what?" she yelled. "That you're being such an asshole that you can't even be happy for me? That you're being such an absolute bastard that you still can't deal with seeing us together after six months of us going out?"

Wade stayed silent, glaring at the wall next to her head, trying not to acknowledge the facts that she was too damn smart for a seventeen-year-old and that she was only in a towel.

"You know what?" Cassie said finally. "How could I ever expect you to be happy for me because I'm with someone? You obviously don't love me. You lead me on for four years and tormented me and made my life a living hell. I know you don't love me, but yet you don't hate me enough to just leave me alone, either. I wish you would just make up your mind."

And with that, she stormed from the room, clad in only a towel, in a deadly calm, leaving Wade to stand in the room alone and stare after her.

_"You wouldn't know love if it bit you in the ass."_


	13. The First Mission

**{The First Mission}**

It was sticky, dirty, and wet in whatever South American country she was in currently. She had already forgotten the name, even though she'd only been on the mission for roughly a day, but that didn't surprise her much, considering she was either sleeping, eating, or concentrating on hiding the team when she had to. It was draining work, being the main front of stealth, but she supposed it was for a good cause, considering the last thing she wanted was to get shot and be crippled for life and/or die.

She didn't like holding the AK-47, in fact, she hated it. She felt like a monster carrying a gun; no better than the man who killed her father and the other bastard who killed her mother in the very same way. But then again, when she thought about it, she was in a league of men who killed for a living. And even though she knew Jimmy didn't enjoy what he did, she knew most of the team did. It was Jimmy and her versus the monster squad when it came to morals.

"How you holding up, kid?" Jimmy asked, plopping down next to her and eating whatever animal Victor had so kindly hunted down for them. Luckily enough for the team, Cassie could hide the smoke of a fire, meaning they didn't have to eat from those sickening cans.

Even so, Cassie stuck with the soldier pills Stryker supplied them in case of emergencies.

"Well enough," she said, looking out of the corner of her eyes at Wade, who was leaning against a tree, staring at her intensely. "If Captain Intensity over there would back off, my job would be easier, but he's not talking, so I'm just taking that for granted while it lasts."

"Amen," Jimmy chuckled, patting her back and then leaning back a little bit, regarding her scars. "They're fading."

"Barely," she snorted, and slapped her arm. A small dot of blood and bug guts was quickly wiped from her arm. "God, I hate the jungle."

"At least Stryker said he'll pay you," Jimmy said on a brighter note. "And you got your dog tags. Big step for a newbie."

"I'm not a newbie," she said agitatedly, and Jimmy smiled.

"Sure, kid." He lit up a cigar and puffed away.

--

Wade stared at her, angry at pretty much everything, thought mostly Seth. Okay, he was only angry at Seth, and that was because he was bastard. Look what he had turned Cassie into! Not seven months ago, Cassie had still been head over heels for him, almost breaking down every time he brought a woman on base, always blushing at his common perverted jokes and even more perverted compliments, laughing at his jokes from time to time and sending him smiles for sometimes no reason. She didn't smile at him anymore, and when she talked to him now it was only about how he was being immature, never how he was going to die young because Jimmy would kill him if he kept the perverted compliments up. Now their conversations centered around how he needed to make up his mind about how he felt for her.

Not that they had really talked after that little chat in her room. Honestly, he hadn't meant to storm into her room ready to pummel any man who stood in his way when she was in the shower. Nope, he hadn't planned that part at all. Trust me, it only made it harder to keep his control in tact. The minute he saw her in all her showered glory: skin glowing, hair damp, smelling like heaven, and only having a mere towel wrapped around her, he almost snapped. It took every ounce of his imagination to picture something disturbing, anything, like Victor naked, for example, so that he wouldn't just crush his lips on her and have his sweet, wonderful way with her then and there.

He knew what he felt about her. It wasn't love, and it certainly wasn't hate. It was possession. She'd been his for four years, she'd been in love with him for three. She was his to torment, his to make fun of, his to make blush, his to fight with, his to care about, his in every possible way.

Seth was going to have to die soon, or else Wade would go crazy.

--

Cassie collapsed in her sleeping bag, looking up at the ceiling of the low tent. The fire had been put out, and Jimmy had his fill of cigars for the evening. Wade, Wraith, and Victor were on watch for the night, having slept most of the day (though Wade had spent most of his time staring at her, which both unnerved and excited her. She was not happy about the latter reaction on her part). She sighed deeply, worn to the bone from fifteen hours straight of non-stop light manipulation, and yanked her dog tags off, looking at what they had printed on them for the first time since she'd gotten them when Stryker had given them to her right before the mission's flight took off at the base.

**Blake  
Cassandra  
Weapon X  
O Positive  
N/A**

Cassie flipped them to the other side and ran her thumb over the tiny lines in the metal, whispering her new name to herself as Jimmy snored next to her.

**MIRAGE**

--

She awoke with a fright; Wade's face mere centimeters away from hers, his hand covering her mouth. Her face flickered for a moment, and he could practically hear her heart speed up. He would have made a perverted comment or something, but now was not the time. Her eyes locked into his when she heard gun shots and yells, heard the splatter of blood as it hit the side of the tent. Her eyes widened. This was real. They were being attacked.

And it was all her fault. If she hadn't have been sleeping, they wouldn't have been caught. They would be safe and probably have the mission over with by now. Anger coursed through her, twinned by self-loathing, as she beat herself up in her head.

All her fault. All her fault. All her fault.

"Damnit!" she hissed, throwing Wade off of her violently in a way Wade hadn't expected, tears coming to her eyes at the thought of Jimmy or Bolt in any sort of pain. She shoved her boots on and tied them faster than she ever had in her life before she grabbed the guns Zero had given her, jamming the extra rounds into the pockets of her pants. The three knives Wade had given her were placed randomly on her body: one in her boot, one in her belt loop, one in her hand. She shoved her brass knuckles over her fingers and loaded one of the guns, ready to kill any fucking soul who hurt Jimmy or Bolt-

Until Wade grabbed her, holding her back flush against his chest as he whispered urgently in her ear.

"There is no way in hell you're going out there!" he hissed as she struggled. She fought like a wild cat against his hold, even if she knew he was ten times stronger than she was.

"Let me go!" she ordered, then felt tears prick at her eyes again as the horrible image of Bolt getting a bullet through the skull flashed before her eyes. "Let me go! I have to help Bolt!"

"Cassie, Bolt's a highly trained military professional-" Wade tried to explain to her, but she was livid.

"I swear to God if anyone fucking touched him-" she screeched, and then struggled wildly in his arms, rage flying through her veins at the very thought of anyone causing Bolt pain, anyone trying to kill Jimmy. She thrashed as his grip tightened.

"Cassie!" Wade yelled. "There is no way in hell you're going out there, Jimmy's orders," he commanded. She thrashed again.

"I have to help them!" she sobbed. "Bolt could be dead right now! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! WE HAVE TO HELP THEM!"

Wade, even if he hated to admit it, admired her dedication to those close to her, and tried not to be turned on as she rubbed against him in her fight to be free of his hold on her. She was so hot when she was vicious...

"Cass, listen to me!" Wade ordered, grip almost deadly now. "You need to hide and get as far away from here as you can."

"No way in hell!" she spat, stubborn as a wildfire and angrier than one. Damn, Wade had forgotten how feisty she could be. She slashed his arm and he hissed in pain, letting go of her to see the damage. He really shouldn't have bought her those knives. The minute he let go, she dashed out of the tent, her image disappearing in the blink of an eye, no effort put into a creative exit. Not when she was livid, when she could only see red, when the only two (three?) men she cared about were killing, being killed, being injured.

Hell hath no furry like an over-protective woman.

--

She launched herself at them, cutting skin and lodging bullets and breaking bones. All she cared about was getting to Jimmy and Bolt, making sure they were okay. And any man who stood in her way was going to have hell to pay.

She could hear Jimmy shouting for her, and it only made her fight with more ferocity. She followed his voice, narrowly avoiding the stray bullets that flew through the air as she shot off her own, running out of ammo fast. When the bullets were gone, she settled for her blades and her fists. She was more of a hand-to-hand combat person anyways. She punched, kicked, stabbed, and sliced her way through the mass of soldiers. In the back of her mind, she felt like a monster, no better than the man who killed her father. In the bottom of her gut guilt sat heavy, but didn't weigh her down, didn't stop her from getting past as many men as she could in violent and grotesque ways. In the back of her mind, she wondered if these men had families, if they had daughters watching her do this to them. She felt like an absolute monster. The only different between her and the men who killed her family was the fact that she was invisible and getting paid.

"Cassie!" Jimmy hollered. She slit a man's throat and ran to him, faster than she'd ever run before, and appeared before his eyes, covered in dirt, sweat, tears, and blood.

"Y-yeah?" she asked, out of breath as she fought her tears and sobs.

"What the fuck are you _doing _here?" he roared as Dukes covered him. "I sent Wade to tell you to get the fuck out of here. He told me you ran off. Where the _hell_ have you been?!"

"Invisible, killing the enemy. It's what I'm paid for!" she spat.

"Why the fuck didn't you listen to Wade?!" Jimmy shouted, shoving her to the dirt so he could take the bullet aimed at her. She saw the shooter and threw one her knives. It sank into his chest and he fell over, dead. Tears poured down her face and her body shook with sobs. Jimmy shook his head.

"This is exactly why I instructed Wade to get you out of here! Why the fuck didn't you listen to him?!" Jimmy demanded.

She sent him and look, a look that mean, 'it's Wade. Do you honestly need a better reason?'. He understood, and wiped the tears from her face.

"Fuck, Cass," he muttered. She could barely hear him over the roar of the fight. "This is exactly why I didn't want you here!"

She only cried.

--

An hour later, they were hiking to the pick-up point. They had won the fight; killed all 125 soldiers, and gotten what Stryker had wanted them to get. She still wasn't sure what it was. Bolt had been shot in the arm, but he was fine. Everyone was in order.

Except Cassie, of course, but she hid it well. Wade had to give her credit. For a girl who'd just murdered roughly thirty or so men and almost had a complete mental breakdown, she was holding up really well. Walking, talking when she needed to, but stony and not focused at the task at hand. She wiped her knives clean on her pants as they walked and Wade watched as she did so. Occasionally she would look at him and stare him in the eyes for a minute before looking ahead or back to her knives in a way that Wade worried about.

She was never really the same after that first mission.


	14. Advice and Comfort

**{Advice and Comfort}**

Cassandra walked the halls late at night, arms crossed across her torso, hands gripping her upper arms like she was guarding herself from some invisible monster who was out to rip her heart out. Bare feet hit the icy cement floors almost silently, the ends of her (Bolt's) black sweatpants under her heels as they padded along the hallway. She knew Seth would be asleep by now. He probably wouldn't mind her coming in, considering he hadn't seen her since she left for the mission, and he never minded a companion in the sheets. But she wasn't feeling it. He'd want to fool around, and right now, while she knew it might make her feel a bit better, it just wasn't what she wanted at the moment.

She padded into the rec room and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She figured she could always go see Jimmy and ask him for help, but she didn't want to wake him. He deserved sleep more than anyone on the team, so she shoved the thought of talking to him out of her head and hit the top of the bottle against the counter, the metal cap popping off and flying out of her sight.

"Ow!" someone hissed. She looked over the counter to see Wade sitting on the couch, sharpening his 'babies', as he often referred to them. The bottle cap had hit him square in the back of the head. She stifled a small laugh, but failed, and he whipped his head around, baby brown orbs glaring at the accused. "What the fuck, Cass?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to," she said, rolling her eyes at his immaturity. "Don't get your panties in a twist." She took a swig of beer, almost sighing in relief as the cold, bitter liquid hit her empty stomach, before she walked over to the couch Wade was sitting on and leaned over the back, looking over his shoulder. Wade looked to the side, eye level with the cleavage that showed as she leaned over the couch, her black camisole showing an ample amount of her chest. He forced his eyes back to his babies, and tried to ignore the urge to just drag her to him and slam his lips on hers. It had been going on for awhile now, these random urges to deflower her. It started back when she was just sixteen, a year ago almost. At first, it was small things, like noticing how her hips had filled out over the years, or how great her smile looked, or how those flannel shirts she usually wore hid the curves of her waist, or how good she smelled, even when she was sweaty. Now, it was how much he wanted to just pin her against a wall and-

He almost groaned in frustration. All hot and bothered by just thinking about her, just by getting a small view down her shirt. She'd be the death of him once she was legal.

She sighed tiredly, her mildly happy facade melting away at a rapid pace. She rested her cheek on the top of his head and took a deep breath, setting the bottle down behind her and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He absolutely froze.

"How do you deal with it?" she asked quietly, know he'd know what she meant. Wade bit his lip when she traced circular patterns on his bicep. He swallowed before he answered.

"Booze, women, money," he answered honestly. "Sometimes a _Starsky and Hutch_ marathon if it wasn't that bad."

"Well, I've got three of those covered then," she said thoughtfully, thinking about her (very large) paycheck that was hidden under her pillow, the beer bottle behind her, and the fact that she just watched enough TV to have subconsciously memorized all the lines in the latest episode _of Charlie's Angels_. "I thought about going to see Seth," she said, and felt him tense. She sighed. "But then I decided against it."

"...Why?" Wade struggled with words when he felt her breath against his ear.

_Holy hell._

"I just didn't feel like going to him," she said simply. "He wouldn't really understand what I'm going through, I think. While he makes the weapons, he doesn't actually kill the people. He says he feels guilty, but he's never seen a man die in front of him, you know? He just doesn't understand."

Wade nodded, and she rested her head on his shoulder instead, finding it more comfortable as she pulled a chair out from behind her and sat on it Indian-style, head and arms resting on him. He felt the slight tenseness in her arms and hands leave, as she sighed again, relaxing. Wade almost shook his head. He'd probably never fully understand women. Just the other day, they had a fight, and he had pretty much refused to talk to him during the mission. Now she was seeking his advice and comfort. He almost rolled his eyes at the predictability.

Women. God damn and bless them.

"Most people don't understand," Wade admitted, stretching his legs out slightly and leaning back into the couch as he crossed his arms over his stomach, putting his babies to the side for now. The silence rested between them a minute, her breathing against his neck calmly, him trying to ignore the urge to kiss her, fists clenched. She needed someone who understood her, not someone who just wanted to get in her pants.

Holy fuck. Was he being_... responsible_? This girl really was going to kill him.

"The first time I killed someone," Wade said, and she opened her eyes, looking up at him. His eyes focused on the TV screen. "I couldn't sleep for days. It gets easier as you go. Eventually, you just think of it as your job, as something you're good at."

Cassie stayed silent, but her eyes were open and her breathing was just a little less calm. "Maybe," she said, obviously getting tired by the low volume of her voice. "But I don't think I'll ever love it like you do."

Wade let out a small chuckle, resting his cheek on her hair and exhaling a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. "You probably won't. You're like Jimmy that way," he mused. "And in any case, killing isn't something most women are made for, even if they are good at it."

"Yeah. I think I get what you mean..." Cassie drifted off thoughtfully. "Jimmy didn't really want me out there. He knew how I would react, but I wanted to fight regardless."

"You had guts to do that," Wade stated, sighing. "But you have to realize that, while the extra help was nice, Cass, we were worried sick about you. You have to promise that you won't ever do that again," Wade said softly. Cassie frowned slightly, her eyes closed.

"But I was only trying to make sure-"

"Cass, promise," Wade said sternly.

"Okay, I promise," she huffed tiredly, nestling into the crook of his neck. He tensed slightly, but loosened up just as fast.

"Good," Wade said, sighing in relief, thankful that she was too tired to have her normal arguementative nature. A silence followed, the two of them just sitting there. After ten minutes, he was worried. She hadn't eaten a lot since she got back. He hoped she hadn't passed out.

"Cass?" he whispered. When Cassie didn't speak, Wade looked down his nose at her.

Her breathing was slow, her lips parted slightly, her eyes had closed again, and her hand gripped his arm tightly, like she was afraid of letting go.


	15. The Awkwardness of GrowingUp

**SPECIAL SHOUT-OUT: Happy Birthday, Ren-Hatake!!!**

**{The Awkwardness of Growing-Up}**

The next morning, she woke up on the couch. Wade was lying in an arm chair on the other side of the rec room's coffee table, breathing loudly in his sleep. She sighed, and smiled when he murmured something in his sleep and then twitched slightly. His hair was messy, probably because she messed it up last night when she rested her head on his, but he still looked like an angel. And even thought she knew he was anything but an angel, she liked to believe he was just for a tiny second. She sighed again, yawning afterwards, and took a good five minutes to stretch her back and legs. She sat up and rubbed her face tiredly, her hand mostly covered by the long sleeve of her form-fitting white thermal shirt. She stood up and stretched her arms far over her head, arching her back, before she yawned again and walked towards the cupboard.

It wasn't until then that she noticed Wade's hoodie, which fell to the floor as she stood. She suddenly realized that she was cold, a loss of heat. She picked it up off the floor and looked at Wade. Sure enough, he was in only a wife beater, even though the room couldn't have been warmer than fifty degrees Fahrenheit. He must have placed it over her last night when he moved her. At least, she assumed he moved her last night, because the last thing she remembered was having her head on his shoulder and sitting in a chair. A smile spread across her face as she let the material of said hoodie run through her fingers, blushing slightly at the fact that Wade had given her his hoodie last night. She thought about putting it on again, but then Wade shivered, so she walked over to him and placed the zip-up sweatshirt over him instead. She leaned in as if on instinct and went to kiss his cheek, but then she shook her head and sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

She needed food. Not eating anything but soldier pills and water for the last two days was obviously getting to her if she was acting like this...

She poured herself a bowl of Lucky Charms, not really in the mood for anythings. She smiled slightly to herself. She was still suppose to follow that high protein diet, but old habits died hard, and she'd be damned if she didn't kill the man who dared to take away her once-daily source of happiness. Admittedly, the fact that her happiness was caused by an incredibly unhealthy breakfast cereal was a little worrying to most of the people who knew her. Bolt claimed that the sugar would eventually shoot down her immune system, even though she had yet to be sick in all of her five (bordering on six) years of living on the base. Sure, she'd had a mini-stroke, but that was from over-exertion, not a clogged artery, bacteria, or virus. Zero said that her breakfast cereal was immature, but left it at that. Jimmy would just shake his head when he saw her with it, and mutter something about not knowing why he loved her so damn much. Jimmy's reaction made her smile the most.

"I don't know why I love you so damn much," he muttered, walking past and shaking his head in the exact way she'd just been reminiscing about. He grabbed a protein shake from the fridge and twisted the cap before taking a large gulp. Cassie made a face at the green, grainy 'liquid', if you could even call it that.

"I don't know why I love you, either," she said, eyeing his 'breakfast' before she shuddered, then shovelled another mouthful of her own breakfast into her waiting mouth. Jimmy snorted.

"At least I eat healthy stuff."

"Healthy and chock full of preservatives, stuff," she added, ever the smart-ass. Jimmy scowled at her but ruffled her hair slightly, moving past her to grab a bowl for himself, then pouring a bowl of Cheerios. She usually made him cave like this; Bolt suspected it was a secret second mutation. She had Jimmy pretty much wrapped around her finger, and that either took a really deep running connection with him, insane good looks, cuteness, or a mutation that screwed with people's minds.

Bolt always teased her and said it was a secondary mutation.

"No! Don't eat my deodorant! I have to save it for my purple anteater!" Wade suddenly begged, waking up with a start as he lurched forward in the chair he'd previously been sleeping in, hand reached out as if to catch someone. He blinked, suddenly realizing that he was awake. Cassie and Jimmy shared an awkward stare with him before Cassie cracked up so hard she fell of her chair and hit the floor with a loud, resounding 'thud'. Jimmy just stared at him for a little while longer and then shook his head, going back to eating his Cheerios after giving Wade a small tip.

"You really should start laying off those night caps, Wilson."

--

Ah, the beloved poker game. The ever-popular group activity for the Weapon X crew. Cassie was winning, as per usual, and it looked like she was going to get some pretty good stuff this time. Dukes' latest paycheck, Zero's new Rolex, Jimmy's six pack, Bolt's socks, and Victor's boots were on the table. Bolt and Victor had lost so many games that they were smart enough to bet things they didn't care about losing. Zero liked bluffing, so she usually got a new Rolex every other year thanks to him, and Jimmy was giving up his beer only because he knew she'd give him half of her winnings anyway.

Victor growled, glaring at his cards. Jimmy grunted, doing the same. Wade was trying to balance a card on his nose out of sheer boredom. Dukes was asleep already, cards in plain view with nothing to show for it. Wraith had given up on playing against Cassie years ago, so he was in his room doing God knows what. Cassie sighed, staring at the four kings and idly wondering if she simply existed to annoy the hell out of her team with her winning streak.

"Fold," Victor muttered, glaring at Cassie. She tried not to break a nervous sweat from the look alone.

"Good. I readily bet Cassie's virginity again," Wade said, laying the napkin that had almost got him killed a year back on to the table. Cassie blushed from her hair to her toes.

But it wasn't because he was betting her virginity. Oh no, that wasn't that surprising. Her blush was for some other reason entirely. Cassie pulled herself into a fetal position. "You can't bet that," she mumbled, words slurred and rushed. Jimmy, Wade, and Bolt all looked at her in confusion.

"Sure I can-" Wade started, but she cut him off.

"Nooo, honey, really, you _can't _bet that," she tried to put it gently, but Wade wouldn't have it. It was slowly dawning on Bolt, and making its way to Jimmy.

"Yes, I can," Wade declared stubbornly. "You'll win anyways and-"

"_YOUCAN'TBETITBECAUSEITDOESN'TEXISTANYMORE_!" she yelled and then bolted from the room faster than lightening, disappearing into thin air in a sudden uproar of fire.

Bolt, Wade, and Jimmy stared at each other for a minute. Zero just watched her go, already having figured out the situation minutes ago right when Wade put the napkin on the table. Her face had said it all. Bolt suddenly rose from the table and started mumbling into his walkie talking whilst charing his taser. The movement made it click for Jimmy. With a sudden outraged roar, he flipped the table over, claws already out, and he stalked down the hallway to hunt down that son-of-a-bitch. Jimmy wasn't two steps out of the door when it finally clicked for Wade. He yanked his swords violently from their loving place on his back and ran after him.

Oh, Seth was going to die that night.


	16. The Dangerous Game of Hide and Seek

**{The Dangerous Game of Hide and Seek}**

Cassie bolted down the hallways, knowing full well that Jimmy, Bolt, and Wade were all not too far away. She rushed down the hallway, then stopped for a second and left a clone, laying on the floor, passed out. With any hope, they would fall for it, thinking she hyper-ventilated. After she made sure it worked, she went back to sprinting like hell.

True, she didn't have the Apocalypse on her heels, but a bloody-thirsty Wade, a raging fatherly-figure, and an overly-protective best friend, all of whom were male, were damn close enough.

She slipped on the hallway because of her socks, scampering down the hallway as best as she could towards Seth's room. Hopefully, Jimmy didn't know which one that was. She stopped, gliding on her socks, and came to a halt right in front of his door. She quickly punched in the number code and the door opened. She rushed in and slammed it shut.

"Seth!" she stage whispered, becoming visible. "Seth!"

_"Mmh, baby."_

What the hell...?

_"Oh God..."_

Her heart rammed into her ribs and broke when she whirled around and saw Seth in his bed, but not without company. They were both moaning, and the bed creaked slightly. The jagged pieces of her heart stabbed into her lungs and stomach, making her forget how to breathe and her stomach churn.

Seth was cheating on her. Right in front her eyes. The guy who smiled at her and called her beautiful and who had been the sweetest boy she ever met; cheating with her with some redheaded whore.

She snapped.

"What the fuck?!" she demanded, breathing coming back harsh and angry. Her fists were clenched, and one hand was already reaching for her brass knuckles. They stopped, and Seth looked over at her, sweating, with eyes bigger and more scared than any man she'd ever come to face. She repeated herself when he didn't speak. "What. The. Fuck?!"

"C-cassie, I w-w-was just-" Seth started, sitting up.

"What? Fucking a redhead whore?" she shouted, hoping to God that Jimmy could hear her because right now, she wanted nothing more than to see him dead and bleeding on the floor, a mess of guts and limbs. She faintly heard footsteps, and inside she cried with joy. Seth looked at her.

"No, you don't understand-"

"Like hell I don't!" she spat viciously, then she looked at him, heart absolutely shredded. "God, Seth."

Not too long ago, she'd been debating whether or not she loved him. Not too long ago, she'd thought he'd never hurt, that he'd stick by her and make everything okay, because that was what sweet boys did. Not too long ago, she gave in and had sex with him, something he'd wanted for a long time but never really pressured her for. Not too long ago, she cuddled with him after sex. Not too long ago, she got angry just thinking about Wade or Bolt or Jimmy scaring him away. Not too long ago, she'd had defended him against her own 'family', if you could call it that. She _defended_ him, for Christ's sake. She fought with the people she loved and who loved her back over this douche bag. She thought that he was different because he wasn't an asshole like Wade. She defended him! She defended him against everyone else when they said he'd leave her and when they said he was no good for her and when they said they had a bad feeling about him. She had yelled at Jimmy for polishing AK-47's in her room when Seth dropped her off at her door. She'd gone against pretty much everything that mattered to her to defend him, and look where it had gotten her: in his room, ready to break down, while a redhead glared at her from his bed and while he stared at her like he was totally innocent, like somehow this wasn't his fault, like he didn't mean to sleep with the woman beneath him.

This was all such utter bullshit.

"You're a such a twisted bastard," she said quietly, and the quietness in her voice was what scared him the most. Then, she walked to the door and exitted, leaving him to deal with what he'd done and to wait for her own private army.

Jimmy, Wade, and Bolt hadn't been fooled by her little decoy for a second, and rushed after her scent, Jimmy leading the way. Wade was ready to kill that bastard, more ready than he'd ever been. And now he had a reason to, too. Well, more of a morally-acceptable reason, anyway. They stopped when they saw Cassie on the floor, back against the wall, crying.

"What happened?" Jimmy demanded, angrier than he was before (which was pretty much impossible), seeing Cassandra in tears. His little fighter in tears.

"Why don't you go in and ask him and the fucking redhead whore!" she spat viciously. Jimmy paused for a minute before it clicked. He roared and kicked the door in, Wade stalking in dangerously after him while Bolt stayed with her, hugging her and telling her that Jimmy and Wade were going to take care of everything, that she'd never have to see that fucking cheating bastard ever again.

Wade hauled Seth from the bed, dragging him from the room and into the hallway. Jimmy threw him against a wall and Wade kicked him in the ribs while he was down with all of his strength. He'd been wrong. Seth might have looked strong, but compared to him and Jimmy, and compared to him and Jimmy with the rage of jealousy and a fatherly-figure, Seth didn't stand a chance. Jimmy stabbed him numerous times, kicking and punching and slicing with the bones that grew from his hands.

"You will never, ever fucking touch her again," Wade growled, kicking him in the face and not stopping, not even to breathe. "Mother." Kick. "Fucking." Kick. "Bastard." Kick.

Blood was going everywhere, and Cassie tried to ignore Seth's pleads to her, for her to make them stop. The redhead had run for the hills the minute they dragged Seth out of the room. Cassie just turned her head and sobbed into Bolt's shirt.

From then on, she vowed never to trust a man she didn't already know again.


	17. Back to Life

**{Back To Life}**

Seth ended up in a hospital far, far away from the base, once Jimmy and Wade decided that they'd rather turn him into more of a salsa-ish consistency rather than tomato soup. Stryker had yelled at them for a full hour until his face was a very lovely shade of indigo, but that really didn't phase any of them. Jimmy was happy because he protected his girl when she needed it, and because he knew she'd be stronger once she got over the shock. Bolt was happy because, once Jimmy and Wade were done with the foot-to-ass sort of beating, he tased that son-of-a-bitch to hell and back for half an hour. Wade was happy because, after numerous months of wanting nothing more to beat the shit out of Seth, and for some reason holding back all those months, he'd finally gotten to. Oh yes, Wade had deeply enjoyed his 'talk' with Seth that day in the hallway. He probably enjoyed it a bit too much for it to be healthy, but Wade wasn't exactly a perfectly healthy person when it came to things in the attic, so he ignored the little voice in his head that told him he was a sadist, _jealous_ son-of-a-bitch and whistled along on his way. Zero was happy because the air had settled, at least for now, and so he could drink his vodka in at least some small amount of peace. Wraith was pretty much content, not wanting to get involved but still happy that the bastard got what was coming to him. Dukes was pretty much too slow to figure out most of the details, so he just went with being happy that Cassie was a pretty young woman who now didn't have the ties of having a boyfriend, which meant he could hit on her.

And Victor, well, Victor was just Victor, so he was pretty much indifferent.

"Hey, Angel," Wade said as he walked into the rec room, snatching a fresh beer from the fridge as he set his swords down on the counter. It was really late, or really early. It depended on your perception of things. Cassie was flipping through the TV channels, and ended up just turning the TV off and giving up on it completely by the time he sat down next to her. An empty bowl sat on the rec room coffee table, a single, soggy Lucky Charm marshmallow sat at the bottom. "Stryker says we're having another mission soon. You should pack in a little while. Five hours until we break and head out."

"Fine," she said. She had her knees hugged to her chest as she glared at the TV set, clad in shorts and a wife beater because the base was absolutely sweltering for some odd reason that no one could exactly pin-point, considering that it was March in Canada, not July in Brazil.

"You holdin' up okay?" Wade asked quietly, like someone else would hear him even though she knew for a fact that they were alone. She nodded stubbornly.

"I'll get through," she said. "One man doing something stupid isn't going to destroy me." Something her voice told Wade that she had somewhat debated about that statement, but that she was determined not to let it happen. Her voice was stubborn, and had a slightly vicious undertone. Wade smirked.

"That's a good girl," he said, patting her head like she was an eight-year-old.

She just rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Do you still love him?" Jimmy asked as he narrowly avoided a slice from her knife, but got a good gut punch instead. She shook her head slightly and did a back hand-spring, but Jimmy grabbed her feet and threw her down into the mat. Sound rang in her ears after her head hit it.

"No. I never did," she replied, getting up swiftly and drop kicking him in the foot, probably breaking a toe or two. She winced slightly; even after all these years, she still didn't like beating up Jimmy. "Seth was nice, but I never loved him. Like him a lot? Maybe," she said, dodging a swing of his fist and jumping to avoid her legs being kicked out from under her. "Feeling used and dirty and stupid because of what he ended up doing? Definitely," Cassie admitted, and swiftly kicked the back of his knee. He took her down with him to the floor, where they rolled. "But loved? No." She aimed to give him a stab but instead was stabbed in the arm, and he got up in her face, pinning her down.

"I was talking about Wade," he said. "I saw you sleeping on him the other day." Jimmy watched in minor fascination as an angry blush rose to her cheeks.

"That doesn't mean anything," she said defensively, dodging the question as she struggled to get free of his pin-down. Jimmy narrowed his dark hazel orbs at her, glaring into the bright aquamarine depths of her own.

"Cass-"

"Jimmy," she replied, raising her eyebrows at him. He stared at her a minute longer before he got up and helped her up, shaking his head.

"Just don't do anything stupid, Cass."

"I don't plan to."

Naturally, most of the time you don't plan on doing something stupid, now do you?


	18. Missions and Odd Feelings

**{Missions and Odd Feelings}**

Soon, missions became a second nature to Cassie, just like Wade had predicted. Hide the team, eat and sleep with the team, kill with the team, finish the mission with the team, and/or die with the team. She had come to realize, after four months of almost non-stop missions, just where her loyalty was, and it was with Jimmy. She loved Bolt dearly, and Wade, well, Wade was debatable at best, but Jimmy had been the one who raised her, the one who always protected her, the one who taught her how to fight. If Jimmy was killed, she avenged his death in the most violent and painful way possible, and then, maybe, she'd die, too, because in all honesty, she saw no further point in living if Jimmy wasn't around.

The four months of nothing but missions made her think deeply about a lot of things, and she had realized, one night, with a sudden, violent epiphany, that she really didn't have much to live for. She didn't care about money. She didn't have any family to write home to or to earn money for. She didn't have any friends other than Jimmy, Bolt, and Wade, if you could call any of them friends at all. She had no life outside of the team, nowhere to turn to but the base for home and no one for her to run to but Jimmy if things went horribly wrong. She realized that romance probably wasn't an option for her, on the base or anywhere else, because she was both A) protected twenty-four/seven by Jimmy, who didn't let any man touch her anymore and B) too involved with the team to really have time for it anyway.

She didn't like her job. She didn't like most of the men she worked with, either, and Jimmy was the only reason she hadn't run away. Jimmy was her home, wherever he went, she went.

But whenever she thought that, she'd get a sudden flash of Wade's face smiling at her in her mind's eye, and then her decisions of loyalty and life would all be ruined. Wade made everything difficult, because he was Wade, and because honestly, despite the fact that he'd been pretty much nothing but an asshole to her for bordering on six years of her eighteen years of life, she didn't want to leave him.

It was a stupid thing really, and no matter how many hours she spent thinking about it while she sat in the middle of the jungle or some God-forsaken tundra, she could never understand why she felt such a connection with him that it screwed with her loyalty to Jimmy and why it made her thoughts of leaving the team hurt. And after she thought about Wade, she found herself in possession of a violent urge to slam her fist into his perfect, handsome face.

If you were asking me, she wanted to punch him because it was just her odd expression of denied love. If you were asking Cassie, she wanted to punch him because he was a smart-ass douche bag who deserved it.

"What you up to, kid?" Jimmy asked, coming into the tent that night. She just shrugged, her arms behind her head as she glared up at the tent's ceiling, annoyed to her wit's end. Jimmy frowned at her.

"You keep staring off into space like that, Cass, and that little wrinkle between your eyebrows is going to become permanent."

She shook her head, coming out of her thoughts and looking at him before she sighed, aqua eyes closing in both exhaustion and frustration. "I know."

Jimmy yawned before he ruffled her hair and laid down in his own sleeping bag. Cassie laid there for another minute before she glared at the ceiling once more and got up, slipping out of her sleeping bag and heading out of the tent.

"Where you goin'?" Jimmy demanded gruffly. She cringed.

"Walk. I'll be back before sun up," she said, noting the slightly light hue of blue to the east. "Make that sun up."

"Don't do something I wouldn't do," Bolt said as he walked past her and into the tent.

"Right. Thanks mother," she snorted before tugging on her combat boots over her filthy socks and heading out into the forest.

* * *

The Black Forest was somewhere she had always wanted to go as a child, when her mom used to make her watch the boring documentaries she filmed. It seemed so neat when she was a kid, but now that she was here, she really failed to see the actual beauty of it. Maybe it was the fact that it was night and pretty much pitch black, or maybe it was because her mind had changed so much from spending the majority of her teenage life with a seven man, all male military team who taught her how to kill, not appreciate nature.

She cringed as she wove her way through the towering trees. She doubted that her mother would have approved of her current life-style choice (not that it was much of a choice, but hey, whatever). Her father might not have minded so much. He'd been in the war, so he probably would have been proud that his baby girl was fighting for her country, though maybe not so proud of the fact that she was a killer just like him.

That thought struck her. Hard. Her father had been a killer, too. She didn't know why she'd never thought of that before. He'd fought in a war. He'd killed men just like she had, though probably more often with guns than with knives.

All the same, it meant that maybe she wasn't such a monster after all. She didn't enjoy her job. She thrived at it, but she didn't enjoy it. Her father's friends, now that she took a long needed trip down memory lane, had always laughed and hooted about how her father had been the best man at sharp shooting and knives since the day he joined the Marines, at least before he became a medic, anyway.

It made her wonder if being good at killing, though hating it at the same time, was in her genetic code. She liked to think of it more that way, considering her other way of looking at it was that she was willingly brainwashed to be a murderer for her country.

Yep, she'd stick to the first point of view.

She zipped around a tree when she heard a twig snap, immediately flickering to invisibility and drawing out the knife from her boot before she glared out into the darkness, trying to see. When she saw a flash of stainless steel when the faint light hit it through the trees, she knew exactly who it was.

"Wade, what the hell are you doing out here?" she demanded, zapping back into sight as she put her knife away. He got close enough for her to see him, and he grinned at her.

"I decided to play bodyguard. Jimmy's back at camp pacing right now. Plus Victor's out hunting. I didn't exactly want him to bring you back as dinner," Wade said casually, leaning against a tree as he looked at her through the darkness. "What's wrong?" he asked, squinting at her. "You've been out of it for months."

"I haven't been out of it," she replied curtly, crossing her arms as she leaned against a tree facing him. "I've just been... thinking, a lot."

"Thinking about what?" Wade inquired, pushing his luck. "You've been all sad and depressed looking, and Angel, I can honestly say that it really does not suit you. You'd be better off with the permanent Barbie kind of look."

"Ha, thanks," she said sarcastically, a little ice to her voice that made Wade flinch on reflex. "I've just been thinking. That's all. It's nothing that you should ask about," she said, even though it was somewhat untrue, considering the source of her frequent thought and frustration was him.

"Sure it isn't," Wade laughed. "Angel, everyone knows you're in love with me-"

"I'm not in love with you!" she instantly deflected, far too fast for her own good. Before Wade could even tease her about it remotely, she ran off, turning invisible in a flash of magenta.

It only made Wade smirk.

"She so loves me."


	19. The Realization

**{The Realization}**

Cassie was sitting on her bed, glaring at the television, which was off. Last week, Wade had confronted her in the Black Forest. There wasn't a whole lot said, really; it was the type of conversation that she should have seen coming. Nothing important was said. No feelings revealed... well, sort of. She had run away, and in turn had pretty much shown her feelings about him. It was getting ridiculous, though. It was almost summer, meaning it was six and a half years now, which meant it had been five long years of her liking/loving him, five long years of her wanting to kiss him good morning and to slap him and to hug him and to ask him how he did all of this to her in the first place. She glared at the TV set with a bit more edge. Really, out of all the men she could have fallen for, she fell for Wade? The unemotional asshole of a soldier who actually _enjoyed_killing people and who'd done nothing but lead her on and be cocky about her feelings for him and tell her that no other man was good enough even though he was probably the biggest asshole in the history of douche-baggery and the worst possible guy for her?

She sighed. She couldn't blame him, even if she tried. She knew from the moment they locked eyes that he'd be something special to her, even way back when he was just eighteen and when she was just twelve, and she couldn't blame him for being him, because that was really why she cared about him the way she did. Plus, she figured it was just a fact of life that a lot of women just tend to fall for assholes; for some strange, stupid reason, women find assholes to be attractive and lovable. She didn't understand the logic (if there was any) to that statement. She just knew it was true.

She thought about her situation for a second. He was twenty-four and she was eighteen. Soon he'd be twenty-five. She was legal. He didn't like anyone else having her. She was pretty sure she loved him. He was possessive, and had been for years. She had no other shots at love, not that she was really expecting him to love her anyway. All she was going for at this point was acceptance. All she wanted was for him to know how she felt and to acknowledge it and for her to be his like he acted like he wanted her to be.

She scrambled off the bed, still dressed in her pajamas (tiny black shorts, one of Jimmy's flannel shirts, one of Wade's old wife beaters), and practically threw her door open before she all but sprinted down the hall, bare feet hitting the cool cement silently, her heart absolutely pounding. She ran into the rec room, and when she didn't find him there, she ran outside. Wade wasn't there, either, so she ran to the shore of the lake and finally, she found him, swimming.

"Wade!" she hollered at him. He was far out, way in the deep part of the lake. He could drown. He didn't have a healing factor like Jimmy did. He would probably get hypthermia, but that, she knew, his healing factor could deal with. He turned and looked at her, treading water. She could see his smirk as it plastered its way on to his face.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" he asked, swimming towards the shore. She waded out until the freezing water was up to her thighs and she stood there, arms cross, waiting. Wade stood up in the water and walked over to her. His lips were practically blue, but that didn't stop her. The minute he was in front of her she grabbed his face and all but slammed her lips on to his.

He practically fainted when she did. Sure, he'd known that she had the hots for him since she was thirteen or so. Sure, he might have some possession issues when it came to her. But this, this was unexpected, especially considering the fact that she knew what she was doing and that she was in those amazing short shorts that he loved and that holy shit, she was such a damn good kisser, and it felt so damn good to have her like this and-

"Cassie," he murmured when he broke away for air, his brain struggling to form coherent thoughts for a locked eyes and he saw the blush that rose to her cheeks and the uncertainty in her eyes. God, what a fuck up he was. When he first met, her, he had no problem admitting that he was interesting. Now that she was legal, now that he actually had a chance with her, he couldn't admit what he felt, because he was new to this. He'd only ever loved a woman once, and she'd denied him the minute he stormed into her wedding slinging his swords around and killing the majority of the wedding party. He had never told that woman he loved her, even then.

Wade was an enthusiastic mercenary with a mouth bigger than his ego, not the exactly the type of guy who bought you flowers and proclaimed love via sappy poetry.

She closed her eyes and spit out how she felt, there as they waded out in ice-cold water, Wade holding her face, calloused hands on her jawline and on her neck. "I like you. I don't think I love you, but you really never know. All I know is that you're selfish and that you hate any other guy touching me and that I've known you for years and that you've mostly been an asshole to me but my feelings for you haven't really changed and that you mess with my head and make things complicated and that honestly," she added, "you're hot and cute and occasionally, you can be nice enough to put up with."

She opened her eyes again, and he stared blankly at her before he blinked.

"In other words," she said after a short but awkward silence, "it would be really awesome if you would kiss me again and not just stare at me."

Wade chuckled. "What, am I intimidating you?"

"Considering that I just spilled my guts about how I feel for you and you're not saying anything about it: yes," she determinded. Wade shrugged.

"Works for me," he said before he put his lips on hers again.


	20. The Relationship

**{The Relationship}**

So for a few weeks, it was like that. Keeping it on the down-low around everyone else, and pretty much attacking each other when no one was around to see. She didn't like hiding what she felt, at least not from Jimmy, but she knew that if they dropped the bomb on the team now, disaster would undoubtedly ensue.

They weren't your average couple. They didn't cuddle on the couch for hours, they didn't have silly little yes/no arguments about stupid things like television shows or football teams like she and Seth had; they were so much different from what she and Seth had been. She and Seth never had to hide. With Wade, it was always waiting until no one could see or hear (which was stupid, because she could easily hide them, but Wade always curtly reminded her about Jimmy and Victor and their insane sense of smell whenever she tried to win that argument). Their conversations were rarely, if ever, calm, pleasant, and loving like it had been that one night. Wade only ever let his guard down like that late at night, when she crept into his room and curled up in his sheets. Other than those rare nights where they could talk softly and not hate/love each other, their 'conversation' was anything but nice couple talk. A casual conversation with them was never complete without several insults, fluent swears, and the occasional bitching.

She and Seth had gotten along. It was a miracle of she and Wade could agree on the cereal she ate or the pants she'd taken from him or how he borrowed her perfume without her permission or how her hair should be worn that day.

"I don't understand why you ever wear it up," he said when he strolled into the rec room that morning to see her sitting on the counter, bowl in hand as she munched on her sugar-filled breakfast. If she ever gained weight, (God forbid), she was going to get diabetes, Wade mused.

"To keep it out of the way. And it looks nice," she replied curtly, then taking another spoonful.

"I like your hair better down," Wade tried.

"Well today, it's up-"

Wade yanked the elastic from her hair, letting the deep, wine colored locks fall down past her shoulders. It didn't hurt her, but all the same, it was childish move on his part.

"Well now, it's down, so boo-fucking-hoo," he said, looking at her with that stupid cocky smirk that she would love to smack and/or kiss off of his stupid, good-looking face. He watched in a twisted form of amusement as she narrowed her eyes at him, not quite glaring, but looking at him in a way that would have any lesser man's heart clenching in fear and/or pain. He seriously doubted that she knew what she could do to men with those eyes if she wanted to.

"Asshole," she muttered, running a hand through her hair before she hopped off the counter and walked over to the other side of the counter to put her bowl and spoon in the sink, her hair flowing behind her even though she wasn't moving fast. That was why he liked her hair down. Even when she was simply walking down the hallway, as calm as it's possible for her to be and in no hurry, her hair flowed behind her like it does for the women in all the bad movies. He watched as she started to wash the dishes in the sink, having nothing to do at this point, since he'd made her angry.

She'd grown like a weed since he'd captured her back when he'd been only 18. She'd been scrawny then, scared of everything, unable to fight to save her life, timid. Attacked by Victor twice, taught how to fight, forced to eat, trained to shoot: all within the first few years. Controlling her powers to the point of complete dominance over them came later, along with her curves, her attitude, the ability to draw blood, to fight, to kill, to win. Six years with the team did a lot to her that six years in normal life would have never accomplished.

"But you love me," he said, cheeky grin plastered on his face. She glared into the sink.

"Don't get cocky about it," she told him. Wade just smirked and strolled from the room, hands in his pockets. She'd been trying to pick a fight, one that she could win. But a fight wasn't what he was looking for when he made that claim.

She hadn't denied it, and that had been all that he was looking for at that point.


End file.
